Just Stacey
by 4give4get
Summary: Hi. My name is Stacey….. er, just Stacey, and I’m your average Cedric Diggory fangirl. CedricxOC
1. Welcome to the Cedric Diggory Fan Club!

Hi

**Title****- Just Stacey**

**Author****- 4give4get**

**Rated****- T**

**Pairing****- CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. I am not a rich, English woman, I'm a poor (okay, not really) fourteen year old, American wanna-be writer! SNIFF Anyway, Harry Potter is property of Joanne Rowling, not me.**

**Serena- Okay, this idea just sort of… came. So please read!**

_Chapter One; Welcome to the Cedric Diggory Fan Club!_

Hi. My name is Stacey….. er, just Stacey, and I'm your average Cedric Diggory fangirl. Of course, the love of my life has never even looked in my general direction even ONCE, because I'm Stacey, just Stacey and hide my face behind books whenever I can.

If Cedric is even really in the same vicinity as me, I turn and hide in the first place I think of. If I have to crawl under a desk in the library, so be it. I will get down on all fours and shove myself under there, choking on dust bunnies and wondering if I'm getting anything more than I bargained for in my hair. But, Oh! My heart is racing and my hands are trembling—it can only be love!

On lucky days, I might be able to make out him speaking. I even feel at home in a spider web-y, dusty underside of an ancient desk if I can at least hear Cedric laughing with one of his friends, or whatever. Of course, I'm so crammed in there, my knees are touching my forehead, but my darling Cedric is there, right?

Well, er, no. Actually not. Unfortunately, my darling Cedric is not actually my darling Cedric. He never was, and never will be. Hey! But that's really okay, I've accepted that in about third year, when I first noticed him. Or was it second? Who knows—it's love, okay?

I'm fifteen years old and in my fourth year here at Hogwarts. I'm known sort of as The Smart Girl if I'm ever even noticed (rarely, as it is) so I'm a proud member of Ravenclaw. I have zero redeeming qualities. My best friend in the world, Bethany says that's not so, but really it is.

My appearance—dark hair, darker eyes, and pallid skin. I might not look SO bad, if I didn't have my tacky glasses. Of course, no offense to anyone reading this. We should unite and be proud! If this applies to you, say it with me: "I am a proud owner of tacky glasses! I don't care what anyone says—I will look as tacky as I want!"

I'm a bit of a chicken, which is the main reason I probably wasn't sorted into Gryffindor in my first year. When we had to fight the bogarts, mine turned into a HUGE snarling dog, and I totally went berserk. The whole class STILL probably hasn't forgotten about it. I'm a screamer—I'll just let your imagination run wild with that.

I am the most clumsy, uncoordinated mess you'll probably ever know. I can't even throw a quaffle on solid ground, much less on a flying broom trying to avoid being beaten to death by bludgers. I have never flown on a broom, and I don't plan to, thank you VERY much. I'd likely kill myself if I just kicked off the ground.

Not even in school am I all that great, though. Like, take potions class. I'm just dreadful when I try to mix ANYTHING in that class, and Professor Snape is hardly sympathetic. I usually put the wrong thing in the cauldron thinking it's something else. I say I'm unlucky, Professor Snape says I'm careless.

So, unless you count taking notes in Professor Binns' class, or studying in Professor Sprout's class, I'm known in my year as tacky, unlucky, Stacey, just Stacey, who can't do anything right. Which, is not very far from reality at all.

But, I love to read. Reading for me, is an escape. When I open up a book, Stacey doesn't exist anymore, and I can be someone who's clever or beautiful or brave. So, I really hate it when I have to put the book down and face reality, and I'm Stacey again, just Stacey who's squashed so she can hardly move under a desk in the school library with her knees up on her forehead.

There is a loud thud from overhead and I look up from the book in my lap to see a boy looking down at me, more like I'm a termite infesting the desk, rather than a girl STUCK in it.

"Do you mind?" he asks in annoyance, "I'd like to sit."

"Sit," I repeat, "Right."

I wiggle my way out of there, and eventually I crawl out, my nails digging into the moldy carpet, my hair falling out of my ponytail, my skirt has gotten a little snagged, and I am coughing from the dust.

Not really thinking, I crawl a few more yards sputtering on the dust-filled air, and my hand lands on someone's foot. I look up, expecting to see someone sneering down, but instead I am looking straight into an ANGEL'S face. Yes, an angel, otherwise known as Cedric Diggory.

He looked a bit surprised to see a girl groping on the ground in the library, but did an ADORABLE half-smile-thing and reached down to help me up.

"You alright?" he asks, (his voice is just as sweet as his face!)

My first reaction is that I had died on gone to heaven. Then, I realize that I would never go to heaven since I am about as lucky as the number thirteen. _Yes, _I think, _That is it—I must be dreaming._ A wonderful, unrealistic, dreamful, WONDERFUL dream. So I pinch myself. Blood trickles out my wrist, but I don't wake up, ergo, I am not dreaming. I think I'm going to have a heart failure, but I don't. I just stare into his BEAUTIFUL gray eyes. Ahhhh.

"I—I—I'm sorry," I stutter, and my blood is rushing loud in my ears. I bet people can hear my heart beating all the way in Tokyo. With shaking hands, I get to my feet and run, grab my books on the table and high-tail it out of there, leaving Cedric wondering what's wrong with that strange girl crawling on the floor.

As soon as I'm out back in the corridor, I hug my books closer to my chest and sink to the ground against the wall. Never, never in my wildest dreams have I ever been that close to Cedric! My hand touched his shoe! I gaze lovingly at my wonderful, and now beautiful right hand. I chuckle gleefully to myself and stand back up, determined to rush off to find Bethany to tell her the news.

Like I said, I've been in love with Cedric for a few years now, and have filled several notebooks (that I hope never see the light of day) with love poems to him. I'm not a good poet, but that doesn't mean I can't pretend that I am. Bethany, Naomi, Summer, and Ella (the four others in my dorm room) all have read them and suggest that I drop one in his school bag one of these days.

"You don't have to put your name on it," Bethany said impatiently, "He wouldn't even guess it was you—I wouldn't."

In all honesty, I didn't think he should have the bear the fact that such a pathetic poet fancied him.

It was just after dinner and I figure all of the girls would likely be in their dorms pretending to study, Welcome to Hogwarts! The speaker by the entrance focuses on me as I arrive.

"I am a plant that resembles a black slug with swellings that contain a yellowish green liquid. My pus is used to cure acne, but undiluted it causes sores and boils. What am I?" the speaker asks clearly.

I am rather impatient to get up there, but I just clutch my books tighter so I don't lose grip, "Hmmm, let me see. You are a bubotuber." I say, recalling the particular Herbology lesson.

"Well done," it said, and the doors flew open.

I rush in and climb the stairs to the dorm two at a time. I shove open the doors and throw my books on my trunk and squeal in delight, jumping onto my bed.

"What's got _you_ in such a good mood?" Summer wants to know. I look over and see that she is reading _Hogwarts, A History._ Probably for the fiftieth time.

"You're never going to believe it," I take one last jump, the top of my head barely brushing the ceiling and fall onto my back, the springs on the bed groaning in discomfort.

"Probably not, but tell us anyway," Naomi snorts, she's reading last month's copy of _Witch Weekly._ Probably for hair tips.

I sit up, knowing my hair is in pretty bad shape, seeing as I stuffed my head along with my body under that dusty desk, wiggled back out of the desk, and then jumped around. But it doesn't really matter because I'm grinning ear to ear and it's the best I've felt in months.

I see that Bethany is in the room, too, working on her Charms essay (which I haven't even started) and Ella is digging through her trunk, probably looking for her other sock, seeing as she's only got one on.

I grin wider, if that's possible, "I know call this meeting of the Cedric Diggory Fan Club in session, and I, Stacey, the captain—"

"Shut up, Stace, the only one in love with him here is you," Bethany points out, cutting me off. The thing is, I was about to use my wand against Summer's trunk as a knocker to set the image off a little better. Oh well.

I know she is right, too, so I remark, "So? Does that mean I can't have a club?"

"A one woman club, how fun," Naomi says, not even looking up.

_Yeah,_ I think, _and there isn't any quibbling about who gets to be captain._

"Stacey, this crush of yours—" Bethany begins.

"It's not a crush, Beth, it's LOVE." I correct her.

Naomi snorts.

"If you _love _him so much, give him a poem," Summer suggests.

"Better yet, give _me_ a poem, so I can give it so someone, you've only got a hundred thousand in that notebook of yours. You can share," Bethany moans, throwing down her quill.

I stand up and pick up said notebook which was somewhere in the pile of books I threw on my trunk. Of course, I carry it where I go everywhere, in case I need to write another poem for Cedric, but mostly so no one finds it and… no, that thought is too horrid to bear!

"Yeah," Ella says quietly (she is always quiet) now that she seems to have found her sock, "What can it hurt?"

"Well, maybe he can tell from…" I try to think of an excuse, it's not like he knows what my handwriting looks like, "Fingerprints!"

Naomi snorts again.

"Do better than that," Bethany sighs.

"Okay," I sputter, "Well, Cedric is really powerful and advanced, maybe he's got a spell that can trace who a note is from."

Summer pauses, "I've never heard of any spell like that."

"Nor I," Ella seconds her.

I imagine Cedric and all of his friends standing in a circle laughing at me, while they kick me on the ground. I gulp, knowing I would have to drop out of school should that happen, which it WOULD if I gave Cedric a poem.

"Come on, Stacey, maybe he'd like you back," Bethany chides, "I've had four boyfriends, and I had to tell them I fancied them, you know."

"No thank you," I say, feeling lightheaded, "Not interested. I like being secretly in love, you know, the feelings-behind-the-curtain sort of thing. You may be publicly in love as much as you wish, Bethany, but I am not you." I hide my face in my hands.

"And it's too bad too," she says sadly, "I want to take a poetry class from you."

"You don't think he'll laugh?" I say, peeking between my fingers.

"Of course not," Summer laughs, "Your poems are fairly decent, and besides, he's really too nice to laugh about something like that."

"Well…" I trail off, half convinced, "Which one?" I motion to my fat notebook full of poems that are more lovesick than you can even imagine. Even I will admit that.

All four of my friends stand up and gather around my notebook, flipping through it. I am feeling even more lightheaded now. It was probably something to do with the fact that I was only a few feet away from Cedric a few minutes ago. Ahhhhh.

"This is my favorite," Ella whispers in my ear, pointing to the page.

I nod. Ella is usually a very good judge, so I decide to take her word for it. Summer agrees, Naomi shrugs and goes back to _Witch Weekly_, and Bethany is still ranting about another one that she thinks is better. I reread it.

**Never doubt that the trees are tall**

**Never doubt what I say is true**

**Never doubt that the rain will fall**

**But above all**

**Never doubt, please, my love for you**

I wrote it sometime last summer, which is usually a good time for my creative sparks to come since I'm bored stiff. I realize that the beats are rather off, but decide it's still fine. Bethany gives me a pink stationary card with squiggly pink lines that smells sort of like strawberry for me to copy the poem on, and I have to admit, it doesn't look bad.

I tuck the card in my notebook where I won't lose it, and promptly forget about it. We goof off for the rest of the evening; Naomi tries some of the hairstyles in our hair.

Summer, with her dark black skin, and chocolaty eyes is probably the best-looking out of all of us, and I'd say second in Bethany. Bethany's got wavy brown hair as compared to Ella's sandy blonde color. Naomi's got dark hair like me, go us!

The next morning, I don my usual school uniform and make my way down to breakfast. I pull the poem from my notebook and confidently walk down the Ravenclaw table over the Hufflepuff table, and then over the where a few seventh year boys were eating, fairly absorbed in their conversation. I drop the note in his bag, but act like I was just walking by. I smile at how subtle I must have appeared. But little do I know of the pretty brown eyes watching my back as I walk off.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Okay, I'm SORRY if it's too confusing, I swear the other chapters won't be! Anyway, please review! Also, I plan on updating soon, if I don't die in a car crash. knocks on wood**

**Also, I'm sorry if there are spelling/grammar mistakes/typos! I have a problem with that! I edited it twice, but you never know….**

**Luv ya all!**


	2. Cho Chang and the Reapearing Dragon

Title- Just Stacey

**Title****- Just Stacey**

**Author****- 4give4get**

**Rated****- T**

**Pairing****- CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- My name is Serena, not Joanne Rowling. I idolize her, but I am not actually her. So I don't own Harry Potter. Damn…**

**Serena- Here it is, chapter two. And I owe it all to ****starcrossedunicorn**** (no one's ever called a creation of mine cute before!) and ****Kiyoko-chan**** (We are united in hating Bella, yay! And speaking of Twilight, the guy who is Cedric in HP, is going to be Edward for the movie. Weird, anyway thanks for the great review! You made me blush!)**

_Chapter Two; Cho Chang and the Reappearing Dragon…_

Cho Chang is standing out in the courtyard, staring at the foamy water bubbling up in the fountain. The thing is ancient, and is of a dragon spurting water out of its mouth. After being shot ten feet in the air, the water falls back down, splashing into the stone pool below, and misting a black haired girl standing by the rim.

Her watch reads four o'clock, but she believes it's slightly fast. He should have been here by now.

Cho Chang is the type of girl that stands out—and knows it. Her hair is silky and black and very long, cascading over her shoulder in perfectly straight plates. There is not a single flyaway hair to be seen. Her eyes are chocolaty brown and almond shaped, giving her the exotic look to match her name. Standing at average height, she is fairly slim, and her face is beautiful.

She smiles to herself, and tries to catch a glimpse of her reflection on the foamy water, but the task is impossible—all she sees is the slimy rocky fountain bottom.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Cedric asks from behind her, causing her to lose interest in the dragon fountain.

"Yeah," Cho begins, trying to sound demure, "What did that note say from potions class?"

Cedric looks sheepish, and sort of looks down at his feet, "Er… well, it was nothing. Is that why you wanted to see me?"

"You showed it to all of us, but wouldn't let us actually read it." She explains, reminding him of the prior potions class.

"Fine," he reaches in his school bag, "It hasn't got a name—maybe you can help me place who it's from. You know a lot of people."

"Let's see," Cho says, now more anxious to see the note than ever.

The paper is pink, and smells rather like fruit—strawberries. It is diffidently the note she saw before. She unfolds it and reads under her breath:

"Never doubt that the trees are tall

Never doubt what I say is true

Never doubt that the rain will fall

But above all

Never doubt, please, my love for you

"A _love _poem?" she shrieks, not able to control herself. That girl that dropped it in during breakfast—Sarah was her name?—actually sent Cedric a _love_ note? _This is too much!_

"Oh," she begins, getting angry, "That stupid whore!"

Didn't that tacky freak see that Cedric was _hers?_ She is Cho Chang! One of the prettiest, cutest, more popular girls in her year! _Like I would even except someone like her as competition! I mean her glasses…_

She would just have to take care of Sarah herself… somehow. Oh, but that doesn't matter! A devil hides behind her beautiful exterior! That tacky little poet is about to see that too! The claws are going to come out….

"You know her?" Cedric asks, ignoring Cho's outburst.

"Oh, I know her alright," she says, shaking her head, _And she's about to know _**me,** she adds in her head.

.x.X.x.

Summer is shaking beside me, she is so excited. My left arm is linked through hers, and my right arm is linked through Naomi's. The three of us are standing in a very large crowd of students, lots of them about as ready to explode as Summer. Why—it's the Triwizard Tournament!

"The first event," Summer says for the fifth time, "will be the first of three, and you'll need the other two events to win the third, and therefore the Tournament."

"Stacey?" Naomi asks me, frowning, "I thought you'd have a "Support Cedric Diggory" badge."

"Yeah," Summer agrees, "You of all people."

"I've worn an invisible "Support Cedric Diggory" badge since second year," I inform them, "And also, I don't think I would want to wear something that says, "Potter Stinks.""

"Huh?"

"It's just mean, is all."

Most of the school is over the fact that there was a fourth Triwizard champion now, but you do have to admit it's odd—three events, three schools, FOUR champions. Oh well.

And of course, just in case I wasn't totally awed by him enough before, CEDRIC DIGGORY IS THE HOGWARTS CHAMPION!! Well, er… one of them, anyway. Let's not really count Potter since he's technically not seventeen. You have to wonder how he managed it… wait, he's just Harry Potter, _that's _how.

So now I get to see my lovely Cedric do Triwizard-things and look cute, and hot, and amazing. So I am in a fairly good mood.

We all file into the outdoor bleachers, I look around, wondering where Ella and Bethany got off to, but knowing my dear Beth I bet she is with her most recent boyfriend. Take a moment to contemplate the differences between us.

We watch with the cheering crowd Fleur Delecour take on… A DRAGON! I am so shocked to see it, I practically have a thrombosis on the spot.

Summer's eyes are getting wider—but in a good way—and Naomi looks relatively unmoved. I feel a vein throbbing in my forehead and suddenly my head feels groggy and my vision is full of fog. I look down at Fleur, whose curvy figure looks so small and dweeby compared to that massive dragon, I feel like I'm going to puke.

The thing gives out a loud shriek when it sees its opponent, and I scream from all the way in the seats. A few people look at me strangely.

"I—I have to go," I blurt, feeling my palms grow sweaty, "I'm going to be sick!"

I don't stick around for their reply either. I stumble down the steps that lead to the ground, and suddenly the dragon gives out another shriek. I begin openly sobbing, as I fall down on the steps, clutching to them like I might fall.

"What's wrong with her?" I hear someone ask, through all of my terror.

I take a few heavy breaths and run the rest of the way back. I won't stop for a million galleons! Luckily, the dragon didn't scream again, and I made it all the way back. I am a horrible runner, but I am pretty quick as I run back to the castle. At least the fog is gone now.

I run to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room and the speaker asks clearly,

"What is one use for wolfsbane?"

I am shaking so hard, I'm barely able to stand upright. On a normal basis, I could probably think of five uses, but that's not the point.

"I—I," I stutter, "Ugh!" I give up, "I can't THINK!"

Luckily, a first year boy happens to be exiting, so I slip in the common room unnoticed and don't stop running until I am on my bed with my face in the pillow, trying to stop my hyperventilation.

_Those people are crazy! Who would volunteer to fight one of those things, _I think, _Cedric's going to die!_

I am filled with the feeling of despair. I love Cedric! I even debate going back in order to protect him (that's true love) but decide that I don't want to watch him die. There's only so much a girl can take after all.

.x.X.x.

Cho is smug. She tried not to let it show how much triumph she felt when Sarah or whoever screamed at the dragon's roars, and even _cried._

_What a big baby,_ she thinks, as she walks back to the castle. The first event is long since over, _What kind of woman is she anyway?_

Cho knows that she doesn't stand a chance, but still can't help but ponder how much Cedric looked at her once she told him who it was that wrote the poem. Maybe she should have just kept that girl out of the picture. Things went better when Sarah was unnoticed. Too late now, though.

_I'll take care of her, _Cho promised herself once again, _Girls like her are easily gotten rid of._

And then Cedric would be all hers. Because that was how it was supposed to be—popular girl, popular boy, no tacky little poet. Cho used to wonder how a girl like that could even fool themselves into thinking they had a chance—but now wasn't so sure. _Why did Cedric suddenly notice her after she pointed her out?_

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Please review! Okay, sorry if you were expecting me to update YESTERDAY, but I DIDN'T and stuff. I didn't really get a lot of computer time. Okay, in the past three days, every second of computer I get, I have been working on this story! You're all probably like, "So quit typing this and get started on chapter three!"**

**Point taken.**


	3. Jane Austen The Time Warp and Killer Gra

Christmas is coming, and all anyone can think about is the Yule Ball, which is going to be in exactly a week and four days

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rating- T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- If you're even bothering to read this, you may now be surprised because I'm bothering to say this. FYI, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be writing on fanfiction. Well, actually I probably would. But just know that I don't own it, kay?**

**Serena- SOOOORRRRRRYYYYY! It's been a FOREVER since I've updated this story, (since I've updated any story, whoops) and I'm sorry. Thank you if you waited, you are the wind beneath my wings! Now please R&R!**

_Chapter Three; Jane Austen, The Time Warp, and Killer Gray Eyes…_

Christmas is coming, and all anyone can think about is the Yule Ball, which is going to be in exactly a week and four days. Girls are everywhere, running around giggling because a boy asked them, or complaining because a boy did not.

Bethany would be complaining, if she didn't happen to already have a boyfriend, and Summer is really not the complaining type. Naomi is a super-feminist and her mother taught her to shudder at the mention of the y-chromosome.

I just bury myself further in the book I was reading whenever the topic comes up. Now it is _Northanger Abbey_ by Jane Austen. Muggle writers really are the best, unless you are looking for something wackier with possibly more comedy. Jane Austen writes of the heart. Sometimes, I wish I was more like Catherine Morland, the main character in _Northanger Abbey_, and was ignorant and innocent, but still a superlative heroine, surely to meet her gorgeous, handsome hero. Only I haven't gotten that far yet.

My hero could only be Cedric, though.

I imagine myself in an early nineteenth century dress, with the small skirts touching the floor and short puffy sleeves. It was a very pretty white muslin one, and I had my hair curled and pearls were woven into it. I also had no glasses, because you didn't exactly wear them to balls in those days.

Let's see—Cedric. When I try imagining him in one of the black suit jackets and high collars, I just end up laughing until there are tears in my eyes.

"What's so funny, Stacey?" Summer asks. She is painting her toenails a shiny gold color.

I tell them all about my short fantasy, and I get them all laughing pretty hard too.

"Maybe you would have been rich, and his parents would tell him to marry you," Bethany points out.

"Maybe," I say, "But Jane Austen says that if someone marries you for your money, that usually means that they don't give a lark about you, and usually people end up naming all of their children after previous lovers they had."

"Really?" Naomi says, speaking up for the first time.

I nod, "Jane had a lover too—Thomas Lefroy. His parents had him engaged to someone else, though. He married her, but his eldest daughter was named Jane."

"What else does Jane say, Stace?" Summer asks, smiling.

"Ha, ha," I say, dryly, "But so you know, _she _never married, although I've heard most of the women in her novels end up married to _someone,_ usually a happy ending."

"Wishful thinking," Bethany remarks.

"She should've just married her Tom," Summer says, sadly.

"You don't understand the times—she couldn't," I explain, "He was going to inherit his father's house and money, and Jane was a clergyman's daughter in Hampshire."

"But it doesn't matter," I add, "Jane got the last laugh, she wrote _Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility,_ _Mansfield Park, Emma, Persuasion,_ and _Northanger Abbey_—which I think is my favorite." I point to the book in my hands.

"'She who laughs the last, laughs the most,'" Summer put in.

"I think it's more of a, 'That which doesn't kill me only makes me stronger.'" Naomi disagrees.

My eyes widen, and I sit up, suddenly, "That's not bad advice!" I leap for the nearest empty notebook I can find, and flip to the first page, and write:

"**She who laughs the last, laughs the most."**

"**That which doesn't kill me only makes me stronger."**

"There, now I'll remember it." I say slyly, patting it.

"You're starting a book of advice?" Naomi asks.

"Yep," I say, "I'll keep it with me, like the Cedric-poems I've got."

"Still no reply on that?"

"Of course not, he doesn't know who sent it."

"You know what?" Bethany says suddenly, "You should ask Cedric to the Yule Ball!"

"Now _that_," I say, "Is wishful thinking. On your part, however."

"He might say yes," Summer puts in, scrunching up her nose as the nail-polish odor got stronger.

"No he wouldn't," I argue, "I'm Just Stacey." Yeah, hiding my face behind a book and when I ever actually show it, everyone is just like, "Her glasses!"

And yes, I am still proud of my glasses—think how I'd be giving in to conformity if I took them off and wore contacts or something. I shudder to think… Yeah, hope any other girls like me understand that.

"Never know unless you try." Bethany protests, "Do you think I got boyfriends by sitting under desks writing poetry?"

I throw down _Northanger Abbey_ and storm out of the room. Yeah, I know: I'm being petty, a big baby, and unable to face the unfortunately-unvanquished truth. I ought to call Bethany Bad-Truth-Teller. How fitting…

Am I offended? Maybe… I mean, your BEST FRIEND isn't supposed to comment on your lack of boyfriend-ness or say that it's because you have a weird obsession with the underside of desks. Which is NOT truth, by the way, contrary to popular belief.

Once out of the common room and in the hall I sigh and set a course for… you guessed it—the library. It's really the only safe place in the whole school, if you get my meaning. Unless of course if it's the day before OWLs and all of the upperclassmen are all cramming—gosh, studying for once in their lives!

Or if there's a charms test or whatever. Anyway, that's rather besides the whole point, because there isn't OWLs until a few months and there's not a charms test, either.

…That I know of…

But I'm pretty well organized (Ravenclaw!) so there's not, trust me. If you've got any reason to trust me seeing as I'm a warbling, pathetic girl who can't even pull her pathetic self together to say THREE WORDS to a single boy:

"Wanna go out?"

But, no.

He's not a single boy.

He's _**CEDRIC DIGGORY**_!

I would have a SHRINE for him, if I had any pictures or anything he touched, if I didn't think my parents would be alarmed by that.

He's like a GOD, okay? I could call it Cedricism… Okay, anyway so I'm going to the library, which is a fairly large building. I have a spot I carved out for myself between the _X _and _Y _shelves.

Yes, when I'm not under desks, very funny.

So, before I begin my dramatic insane argument with myself about how guilty I feel about storming around like an angry two-year-old, I lay down on the dusty carpet—smells like celery, weird—and look up at the ceiling, noticing the lack of rotating fan I'm seeing.

Wizards are above them, I suppose.

Bethany probably feels horrible—which, she shouldn't because what she says is true (no mentioning that she couldn't write poetry for her life, not that I'm a regular Emily Dickinson or anything…). Further more, I'm acting like a prat with no sense of others' feelings, etc, etc.

After my big long guilt-trip in which I have no reason to do to myself whatsoever—at least not any sane reason that would make sense to anyone but me or something equally messed up in the above-the-neck region. So I'll keep them all to myself, yes, thank me.

I don't suppose I might be interrupted from my "thoughts" if all of the odd assortment of people dressed in black suits with colorful ties from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ marched down the aisles and started doing the Time Warp.

But then again, I might join in. "Just a jump to the left… now put your hands on your hips." Yeah, that'll be a sure way to get Cedric's attention.

Sure, in a B-A-D way. _Vair, vair _bad…

So, while I'm thinking about doing the Time Warp in the library, I notice Cedric's voice, which by now you should all know that I'd recognize his voice anywhere.

Sadly. Well, it depends on how you look at it, I suppose, but whatever. But really, if You-Know-Who came marching into Hogwarts and opened his mouth and said, "AHHHH, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, STACEY, BECAUSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND I'M GOING TO TORTURE YOU AND SHOW YOUR MUTILATED BODY TO THE WHOLE WORLD, AND THEY'LL ALL SEE YOUR GLASSES!" and it was in Cedric's voice, I'd still recognize it.

And I'd still be in love with him too, even if he was secretly You-Know-Who and just incognito at the school posing as the love of my life. –insert sob—

As I peek out from behind the _X_ shelf, I see that he is surrounded by friends and admirers.

"Hey, great job with that dragon, Diggory," a guy says, patting his back as he walks by.

"You were _amazing!"_ a girl exclaims, seconding the guy.

Yeah, I'll bet he was. Even though Cedric would be _amazing _to me if he was squatting in a loin-cloth stuffing his face with tapeworms. Too bad I wasn't around to see his newly found, _amazing _dragon fighting talents.

No matter, I wouldn't approach him if Aladdin swooped down on his flying carpet and pointed one of those curved knife-things at me. I wouldn't talk to him if evil men came and threatened to throw me into a boiling vat of man-eating eels otherwise.

But that's okay, I'm going to safely assume that'll never happen. Even though with MY life, you never know…

Cedric flushes slightly and shakes his head, probably saying some modest response, but I can't really hear him. He holds his hands up as if to say, "Leave me alone," but they don't really take the hint.

By now, I'm trying to figure out a way out of the library without them noticing me. Not that I think they would, since it's not like I've got a big **HEY, EVERYBODY LOOK AT ME; I EAT BOOGERS** sign taped to my back, dangling above my head, but it's still a precaution I enjoy taking.

I _could _just wait until they left, but I don't really want to since I'm itching to get out of here, and eat a quick dinner. Wonder what they've got today…

But wow, Cedric looks amazing. His light brown hair, high cheekbones, distinguished brow, gray eyes… Wow, if anybody happens to look over here, what a prat they'll think I am.

Too bad I don't care.

He has a nice body too. Tall, broad shoulders, big hands, etc. I wonder if he's got muscles. Probably. I try imagining him in a leopard print Speedo and burst out laughing again.

Then I add a flower lei and a ukulele. And a beach background. Why not a girly butterfly tattoo? I have tears in my eyes now, poor Cedric, if only he knew…

"And I never saw it again, so I'm not sure what to—" a girl's voice says, but cuts off, "What's wrong with _her?"_

I realize she's talking about me, and blink, trying to make it look like I was looking at a book. Her friend mutters something.

Great, so now I'm going mad laughing myself sick in the library. I make a break for the door, not really caring about being unnoticed. Of course, since I'm Stacey, I have to take one last look at the Beloved Cedric.

And when I do, his gray eyes are looking right into mine. It's so intense it makes my insides squeam and the little tiny person up in my forehead working the controls (watch cartoons, people!) screams and hits a big red button reading, "EMERGANCY," and I rip my gaze away and run.

And I don't think I've ever run as fast in my life.

Yeah, nice goin', Stacey, REAL smooth.

Wow, I need to think my life out a little bit. Say, "AMEN!" if you know what I'm meaning. Damn…

I sprint into the Great Hall and grab a sandwich randomly off of someone's plate.

"Thank you!" I yell, continuing to run, though I do trip and slide on the floor crashing into the wall. MAJOR friction burn on my thigh.

Of course, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall happen to come walking by just in time to witness my moment of triumph.

I quickly jump to my feet and brush myself off, smiling.

"Careful now," Dumbledore says, "Wherever you're in such a hurry to go to isn't worth it."

"Yes, sir."

They continue walking, and I stuff the whole sandwich in my mouth.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- THANKS FOR READING! My very life depends on you because I might kill myself without any reviews! Not really, not meaning to make fun of suicidal people!**

**Suicide is BAD!**

**Please review!**


	4. The Yule Ball and all that it Entails

"So, Stacey," Summer asks, "What are you going to wear

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rating- T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- Joanne Rowling. Serena. Sound similar at all?? I don't own Harry Potter!! This story, is mine, and so are most of the characters, but the whole setting and a few other characters are not my property! And like I said last time, even if I did write Harry Potter, I would still be writing on fanfiction, 'cause I love it so much!**

**Serena- Sry, for the long wait. I really gotta get my act together, huh? Anyway, please read and review!**

_Chapter Four: The Yule Ball and all that it Entails…_

"So, Stacey," Summer asks, "What are you going to wear?"

Summer looks beautiful, she's wearing a light green dress with gold-colored shoes and her hair is down around her shoulders.

"Wow," I comment.

Yes, it's the night of the Yule Ball, and it starts in well… about an hour. My mind is still alive with fantasies… most of them including Cedric.

"You like it?" she asks, shyly, smoothening out her skirt.

"You're beautiful," I assure her, dog-earring the page of the book I'm reading.

"Are you going like that, Stace?" Bethany asks, daring me to say yes, as she wrinkles her nose.

"What do you think?" I reply. Just so you know, I'm wearing gray sweatpants, socks and a white tee. I'll be the belle of the ball, whatta ya say?

"Making sure," she mutters, turning away.

Bethany doesn't look bad, herself.

Her hair is in perfect waves as usual and has a pinkish red dress on, with matching shoes and she is all totally glowy. I've always been envious of her nose…

Naomi with her chopped short hair and rather punk-style has got red with fishnet on her legs and heeled, buckled boots and looks really hip. I could never pull off a look like that.

Even Ella's got a spaghetti strap black dress on and looks quite pretty.

And then I, Stacey, in my sweats.

"Errrr…" I begin, "I was thinking of not going, honestly."

"Why?" Bethany demands, "You already wouldn't ask Cedric, so the least you could do is go and watch him dance with Cho, so you'd know better to just gather yourself and spit the words out next time!"

"Meanie," I say, laying on my stomach on my bed.

"Perhaps, but you ARE coming."

"Fine," I snap, sitting up, "Let me just get dressed then."

I figure she'd likely never let it go if I didn't just go down there, smile, drink a soda, then go back up, claiming a headache or something. Which is exactly my intent.

My dress has two-inch straps and is white with silvery swirls on it, going to about a little above my knee. Peering into my trunk, Bethany gasps.

"You HAVE to wear these shoes with it!" she says, pulling out a pair of TWO-INCH heeled-silver shoes that covered the toe and all.

"Uncomfortable," I protest, but she won't hear me. Great, now I'm going to stumble around like an idiot on top of everything else.

"And your underwear," Summer sniffs, "Is gross, Stacey. That's what my grandmother wears."

"Well, excuse me then."

"Here, wear _this_," she proudly produces a pink-with-red-lace pair of underwear, which as much as I hate to say it is definitely in the THONG category.

And then Naomi, Summer, and Bethany all force me in them. UNCOMFORTABLE! It's like a constant weggie, okay?

I take down my hair and brush it, just leaving it straight, although Naomi does comb my bangs so that they are sort of in my eyes, but it looks cool, I think.

Lip gloss and I am done.

So, I stumble down the stairs, trying to refrain from going back to change into some actually comfy underwear. I give myself about an hour before I fall and break myself in half. Or at least break an ankle.

I picture Naomi and Summer dragging me out of the great all, bleeding to death with Cho and Cedric laughing at me. Oh great! I'll have to move to a distant third-world country and dye my hair and wear a false mustache, while going by the name Diego.

What? I could be a Diego.

"Naomi?" I ask, "Summer? Are you going to go off and dance while leaving me alone with my sorrows and a few bottles of butterbeer?"

"Ha, ha, Stace, but no. What makes you think I'd give in to conformity and dance with a _boy?"_ Naomi says, linking my arm with hers, "Boys are over-rated until you're about twenty-five. Because before that they all only want one thing!"

I figure I don't have to worry—no boy will even look at me anyway. Boys like tall, pretty girls with big busts and shampoo commercial hair. They also like girls that were talkative, smiley, and NOT SHY. Boys think that girls who read are weird. They also like the athletic-type with perfect legs and whatever.

Anyway, I am the type-to-avoid, and not to mention I have weird daydreams, which makes me even less likable. No, boys that "only want one thing" are no concern to me (or other girls like me) at all.

So, it's really surprising to find out that neither Summer nor Naomi have dates. Well, they're both beautiful and social. But then again, they're not much like shallow little Bethany who thinks that the entire world revolves around boys.

I guess girls like Bethany NEED to have a boyfriend otherwise they feel insecure about themselves. My god, what is this? The 1950s were girls got married right out of high school and spent every waking hour after their fourteenth birthday looking for a guy to "have a serious relationship with?"

Honestly, I think I agree with Naomi and her mother on the subject of boys.

I guess that's only because I'll never get within ten feet of Cedric anyway.

So: ATTENTION GIRLS OUT THERE—HI, THIS IS STACEY SPEAKING! YOU DO NOT NEED BOYS AND IF YOU ARE THINKING, "YES, I DO! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE SO UGLY YOU COULDN'T GET ANY IF YOU WANTED TO!" I THINK YOU ARE DISGUSTING AND MAKE EVERY FEMALE ON THE PLANET LOOK LIKE A DEPENDANT, PATHETIC BITCH WITH FAKE BLONDE HIGHLIGHTS!

Okay, so I am thinking all well and good about myself and for once not about Cedric and I'm actually enjoying myself with Naomi and Summer. We are talking about how Naomi hates boys.

"Like, every girl in the whole school thinks I'm gay by now," she says, "But I don't care—I don't think of being gay as a bad thing, so it doesn't really affect me."

THERE! See, I am now wishing I could be as confident as Naomi is. If people teased me like that, I'd go back to that plan of moving to a third world country, dying my hair, wearing a false mustache, and naming myself Diego.

So we are cursing the whole homophobic world and saying we're better than it, and blah, blah, blah.

"Hey, let's walk around the garden in the courtyard," Summer suggests, and we all stand up, happy to leave the common room, now turned into a ballroom which was growing hot with so many people in it.

"It smells so bad!" Naomi rages, as we push through throngs of dancers.

"It's those French girls' perfume!" I tell her. It is a little loud and a few Beauxbatons girls glare at me.

We finally escape and set to laughing and whooping loudly in the cool fresh December air.

"I heard they use wale-vomit as perfume in France!" Summer laughs.

"Must be," Naomi agrees, jumping on my back as I try to carry her, but the heels on my shoes slip and we both go down, laughing.

"What's all this noise?" Filch's voice demands, as he comes down the path, his cat in tow.

"So sorry, Mr. Filch," Naomi says, spreading out her arms from where we were sprawled on the ground, "We were _actually_ having _fun_—it won't happen again!"

He frowns but asks, "Have any of you seen the Weasley twins? I've been looking for them for going on a half an hour now. Think that ordering a male-stripper for the party if funny."

"Who?" Summer asks.

"Weasly." He repeats.

"Are they tall, identical, with red hair and blue eyes?" she continues to ask, her eyes looking serious.

"Yes," Filch says, getting excited that he might have a lead.

"Nope," she says all of a sudden, "I cannot say that I have seen them."

He swears, "I have important business with them, but you wouldn't understand that, would you?"

"No, sir."

"I can see that you know them. And you know what? I bet you've seen them tonight, too. You may even be in cahoots with them." He grins evily, "I'll get what information I need out of you."

I look at Naomi who begins to look guilty, "Well, girls," she says, "I believe we've been caught."

Filch looks excited again.

Summer nods, and I have no idea what's going on.

"And we _do _know where they are," Naomi continues, "We're hiding them—in our dresses." She pulls out her collar and peers down her dress, "Well, that sure is funny, they were there a minute ago."

Filch cusses again, but we get up and run, laughing hysterically and he shouts after us. We take a sharp turn, and the heels on my shoes mess up my footing, causing me to trip. Naomi and Summer must not have noticed because they keep running. I do my best to stand, but by then, I am alone, with scraped up knees in a dark, maze-like garden.

I see a few girls jump out of nowhere. They're fifth years and I can make out Cho's face among others. Right away, I know that this isn't good.

"Hello," I say, starting back the other way, but one of them slaps me in the face, laughing.

Her laugh is high and evil-sounding. The cruel sound pierces my ears, causing my head to hurt as well as my cheek, which is burning from the slap.

"Stacey, Stacey, Stacey," Cho says my name, "Aren't you going to fight back?"

I am rooted to the ground, my eyes glued open, and focused on her grinning face. Her grinning, beautiful, malicious face.

"No? That's rather pathetic. You're as tall as me, which probably a pretty good fist. You'd have a chance, Stacey. You're just too scared and pathetic."

The back of my neck is burning up, and I still can't move. _If she hits me,_ I decide, _I'll just close my eyes._

"If you would stop looking at Cedric with that ugly thing you call a face we wouldn't be here, would we?" she asks, and honestly, I'm not about to actually answer her.

She slaps me herself, now. I did as planned—I just closed my eyes. It is on the same cheek as before, and stung even worse. _Stacey,_ I tell myself, _Pain is only a message from your brain—you can choose to ignore the message._

The whole group—four girls—slap, punch, pinch, and claw at me. They grab handful of my hair, too.

It hurts so bad, I let out small cries, despite my attempt to remain silent.

"Cho," a girl says, scared, "We don't want to get in trouble for seriously hurting her."

"We won't get caught."

"Cho!"

"I think she's learned," Cho says finally, letting go of my arm, leaving blood scratches in place of her fingers.

I am on my hands and knees and then just let myself fall the rest of the way to the path. Through swollen eyes, I glance up at the star-filled sky. I can feel bruises forming everywhere, and I taste blood in my mouth, and feel my whole body wet with something sticky.

I feel dizzy and my head feels like it's even cracked in places, gushing out blood. _I'm dying!_ I think, panicking, _That stupid girl, Cho actually killed me!_

I taste so much blood in my mouth now that it's beginning to pour out of my lips, down my trembling chin. Some of my teeth are loose. It is so that I can hardly complete a single thought, I'm getting so woozy. I feel sort of tingly as the feeling leaves.

"Jesus Christ!" someone shouts and I hear footsteps, but it's all weird-sounding through my ears.

I begin feeling no pain at all now. Like I'm floating through a dark, misty cloud. Just floating. Cho and everyone else is back down on earth, and I'm all the way up here.

"Stacey?" the voice continues, "Stacey, stay with me!"

But I shake my head—I don't want to go down there again. It'll hurt down there. It is like I'm hovering between life and death, but my body can't chose one way or the other. _I wouldn't mind… staying here forever…_

Suddenly, it grows dark and I realize a choice is being made—the darkness swallows me whole.

I feel all of the pain come forcing it's way into my body, and I moan it hurts so bad. I feel every scrape Cho and her gang have me, every bruise. And the blood—it's in my mouth again, dripping down my chin, and trickling down my arms and legs.

I feel someone tuck their arms under the back of my knees and under my back. They throw my left arm around their neck. I'm lifted up like an empty box and try to force my swollen-shut-eyes open. No use.

I realize it's a boy that's found me as my head falls on their chest. Oops, I probably got blood on their shirt. I breathe sharply, and his voice says, "It's okay, Stacey."

I wonder how they know my name, but don't dwell long on it. Before long, I hear a lot more voices, including Professor McGonagall's, Madame Pomfrey's and the boy's.

They speak to me, "Stacey, can you hear me?"

I open my bloody mouth, which I hope they take as a yes.

"You'll be just fine, Stacey."

"You are lucky you were found when you were, dear."

"You are going to sleep now, just as soon as you swallow this."

My mouth was forced open and tasteless liquid which mixed with the blood was given to me. I did my best to swallow it, gagging on the blood.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Thank you all for reading this, please review, I really enjoy reviews.**

**Also, keep in mind that I have nothing against French people, so please don't take offense if you are French. I don't have anything against them, obviously, because part of my family was French before they were American. So I have partly-French blood. So please…**

**I can even speak some, like "Ja'dore les glace!"**

**And, "Je n'aime pas histoires d'unoriginal!"**

**And, "La vert est la meilleure couleur au monde!"**

**So, I have nothing against French people.**

**Again, please review, hopefully I'll get the next chapter up sooooo-ooon!**


	5. IT's WAR!

Title- Just Stacey

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rating- T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter (boringness)**

**Serena- THANK YOU, ****Green AnimeLover,**** you're an amazing reviewer! So yes, thank you for putting up with my crap and not updating in like a whole month and that kind of stuff. I don't deserve it!**

**And THANK YOU to my twin-seperated-at-birth, ****RedNailPolishFreak**** for reviewing this story as well, glad you like it! :) You're an amazing reviewer too, YAY!**

_Chapter Five; IT'S WAR!..._

Summer casually glanced behind her.

"Wait," she says, stopping, Naomi crashes into her back and is breathing heavily as Summer is.

"What is it?"

"Where's Stacey?"

Naomi turns, now noticing she was gone too, "I don't know, she was right behind me!"

"We've got to go back!"

Both girls go back the way they came, but there is no Stacey.

"Do you suppose Filch got her?"

"Why would he? He didn't even come after us!" Naomi snaps.

"Alright, alright!"

"If she's not on the path, do you suppose she went back inside?"

Summer doesn't understand—where would Stacey have gone? And without telling them? They push their way back into the too-hot ballroom and instantly give up on seeing Stacey in the massive sea of people.

"Well, she wouldn't be dancing," Naomi says.

"She's not here," Summer finishes.

They both glance around one last time, but turn to face each other, "The common room!"

They run all the way there, up flights of stairs to the Ravenclaw common room.

"_What does the spell, _aparecium_ used for?"_ the speaker asks.

"To make ink invisible," Naomi says, plainly, and the two rush in as the portal swings open.

Summer sees that Stacey is not in the common room, and neither is she in their dorm room.

"Where else could she have gone?" Naomi blusters, pacing the room, kicking open random trunks as if she'd see Stacey in one.

"The library's closed, so…" Summer begins, thinking so hard she feels a headache coming on.

"I just don't know, Naomi."

.x.X.x.

I regain consciousness. The pain is still there, but it was nothing compared to before. I don't want to move anything, just in case a limb falls off or something. I open my eyes and I'm in a bright white room—the hospital wing.

So I haven't died, after all.

Madam Pomfrey bustles through, refilling the glass of the small girl across from me with water. She sees I'm awake.

"There you are, dear!" "Just relax!" "My, you've got everyone wondering what on earth happened last night!" etc, etc.

I struggle to sit up, and look her in the eye, "How long was I out?"

"Oh, only a few hours. It's nine o'clock now, Ms. Light-Sleeper," she responds, pouring me a glass of water as well.

She is a talkative woman, really. Maybe other people don't listen to her enough, "It's quite a good thing that nice boy found you and got you help. Carried you all the way here, he did! Mr. Diggory always was the one boy who wasn't immature and rude like all the rest lately."

"Diggory!" I gasp, "Diggory? You mean CEDRIC DIGGORY dragged my bruised, bleeding butt from the garden all the way up _here?"_

Of course, Madam Pomfrey doesn't see the extremity of it all and is quite taken back by how alarmed I am.

"Of course he didn't _drag _you, dear!" she assures me, taking it all completely the wrong way, "He carried you—he's strong, it won't hurt him."

I am now lying down, planning my escape. Of course, I'll never be able to show my face in respectable society again. Slash the third world country-false mustache-Diego idea! I'm going to have to live in a secluded forest and eat slugs and slime off of tree bark! I'm going to have to shave my head and wear robes and become a hermit!

Or maybe I could just become a nun, and wear a habit and live in a convent for the rest of my life. But which one? Well, at least at a convent I'd get better food than slugs and tree-slime. I wouldn't have to weave clothing out of grass and leaves and live in a burrow, either. Yes, it would have to be a convent.

As I'm thinking this Naomi, Bethany, Summer, and Ella all burst in, speaking all at once.

"Stacey!"

"What happened to your face?"

"Stace, I'm so sorry!"

"How could we have left you? I mean, God…"

I sit back up again, grinning, "Hey, I'm fine. Just fine. No worries. I'm just going to drop out of school A.S.A.P. Don't worry, you can still visit me at the convent!"

Madame Pomfrey then repeats her story of Cedric bringing my sorry carcass up here and I want to die just hearing it again.

Bethany laughs seeing my distress and Summer, Naomi, and Ella all are snickering. Great, and these are the girls that are supposed to be my FRIENDS?

"Thanks" I say dryly, "Thanks very much. My life is ruined because of last night!"

"Bad luck, Stace," Bethany giggles.

"You're life is not ruined," Summer sighs, sitting down on the bed, "You'll get over it… Someday."

"Thanks," I say again, sarcastically.

"Anything I can get you, dear?" Madame Pomfrey asks, after they've left, laughing the whole way out about my misfortune.

I shake my head, "I'm better now, thank you."

"But—"

I throw the blankets off and limp to the door. I'm not bleeding, all of the scratches are healed by magic, but the bruises remain and my limbs are sore. She tries to pull me back to the bed, but I shake her off.

"Please," I croak, "I need to grieve for my lost youth alone."

She's so taken back by me that she just lets me go. Finally. I pick up the stupid two-inch heels and I'm out. Of course, I'm still wearing Summer's stupid underwear and the dress, so I first head to our dorm to change into REGULAR UNDERWEAR, jeans, tennis shoes, and my Bob Marley t-shirt.

Yes, I do go around in tight jeans, parading "One Love" on my shirt. Maybe that's partially why Cho hates me. Yes, I have realized THAT much by now: Cho Chang does not think very much of me.

I take _Northanger Abbey _and start down the stairs, stomping the whole way. I go to sit at the lake, but instead of reading, I just watch the waves lap up against the Durmstrang kids' ship. I look over and see that that Krum-guy is actually swimming in it. In December.

Weirdo.

Like I can talk, heh, heh.

I bite my lip and look at the cover of my book. It shows a big house—the old fashion-brick type. The sky is cloudy and the house looks grim and foreboding. The trees have no leaves. A girl in a dark blue, muslin dress and black bonnet has her back to us but is glancing off to the left, giving us a side view of her bonnet, but you can't see her face. She's on the path to the gate of the mansion, which above in the dark gray sky, gold letters read, _Northanger Abbey_.

Since I've read the book, I knew the mansion is Northanger Abbey and the girl is the heroine—Catherine Morland. Her body language reads distress and she overall seems enigmatical. But her distress isn't for long—because she's Catherine Morland—a heroine.

I wish I were a heroine, too.

I look back over at the school. No, it isn't much of a Northanger Abbey. Not anymore than I was a Catherine Morland. The day isn't gray, either. I sigh, adding this to how much my life is over too.

"Hey!" a voice called from down a few meters over, "Stacey!"

I glance up, and see who it is.

Oh.

My.

God.

Betcha can't guess who it is.

Cedric.

Diggory.

Is.

Waving.

At.

Me.

And.

Now.

He's.

Walking.

OVER.

HERE!!

I wonder if I should pretend like I don't see him and… and—well… RUN!

No matter, I can't even move anyway. I see him striding over to where I'm sitting. I can't even blink now.

WAIT JUST A SECOND, HERE! "_**STACEY?"**__ SINCE WHEN DID CEDRIC KNOW MY NAME??_

I just stare stupidly.

"Stacey," he breathes, finally upon me, "You're out of the hospital wing so soon?"

I continue staring. I can feel my heart beat in my throat, and I'm expecting it to jump out of my mouth any second. I can't look at him. I can't. I can't. I can't. Don't even as me to! BECAUSE I WON'T! I refuse to look into his beautiful, heart-attack-causing gray eyes! I won't do it!

So I'm pretty much just looking at the ground.

Trembling.

"Hey, are you okay?" he sounds concerned now, OH GOD!

He kneels down next to me and places his hand on my forehead.

Cedric.

Is.

Touching.

Me.

I freeze in my thoughts, and swallow loudly. My forehead is now, officially sacred.

I wish I could say something. Something right. Something that would be cool and funny and make him laugh. I wish I looked sexy or pretty or at least not like a stupid idiot who can't talk.

"You know," Cedric continues, his voice ringing in my ears. But in a good way. The sound is sweet, making my eyes widen and I start trembling again, "They probably shouldn't have let you out already. You don't look well at all."

I let my glance leave the ground, but I still don't look at his face. My hands are growing sweatier by the second. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself and it sort of works.

He is silence for a while, but then speaks again, "Look, it who the heck was it that did that to you?"

I think for a moment. Should I tell Cedric about how his psycho girlfriend and her friends beat the crap out of me?

Let's ponder that—NO!

"It was an accident," I blurt out, before I can even try to think of a better story. I internally slap myself on the forehead. What kind of stupid answer is that?

"An accident?" he repeats, sounding skeptical, "Why don't I believe you, Stacey?"

Great. Now what am I supposed to say to that?

"It's true," I insist.

"Stacey," Cedric says, "Look at me."

Slowly, I turn my head. I try to avert my eyes from his face, but soon it's impossible. And I see his beautiful face and I feel myself shivering again. I breathe sharply.

"How do you know who I am?" I ask, trying to sound non-insane.

He does an adorable half-smile and pulls a very familiar pink note with a very familiar poem etched on it. Oh God…

"Have you seen _this _before?" he asks, handing it to me.

I unfold it and let my eyes gaze over the poem.

"No," I answer, "I've never seen it before in my life."

"Why don't I believe you, Stacey?" Cedric asked for a second time.

"I can't say; why don't you?" I shoot back.

"Because I believe you wrote it."

WELL THEN.

"Um—that's an interesting point of view," I say weakly.

WAIT. Hold up, here. I was right! He WOULD find out who wrote it! I am now planning to kill Bethany, Ella, Summer, and Naomi for their false love-note-information. But how? Fingerprints? Yes, he must have dusted the note for fingerprints!

…And then somehow find out what my fingerprints are, and saw that they matched! Yes, that's it!

Or was it some kind of spell that could trace where things came from? Hell, I am in RAVENCLAW, I should know about such kind of things. But then again, Cedric is a hot, dreamy, seventh year who also happens to be in the Triwizard Tournament. Yeah…

"Why do you think… that?" I ask, deciding to ask after a while of insane internal arguments.

"Cho Chang said it was."

WHAT IS THAT BITCH'S PROBLEM?

Wait, if she wanted to STOP me from making a play for Cedric (Which, by the way I'm not, even if I thought it would do me any good…) why would she point me out? That makes no sense at all WHATSOEVER.

Wow, Cho's pretty stupid.

For a Ravenclaw girl, anyway.

Well, a girl as pretty and popular as her ought to have some kind of fault. Why not let it be stupidity? WAIT! This is how I would get rid of her ONCE AND FORALL:

I'd simply out-smart her! Which would be hard. Not hard at all! She's a total idiot preppy popular girl who's about as deep as an evaporating puddle.

(ahem, ahem) _I _am a nerdy, tacky, shy girl who reads Jane Austen. Who do you suppose has got more brain cells than the other?

YEEESSS, EXAAAACTLYYYYY!

"Stacey?" Cedric asks, breaking my scheme-plotting, "You've got a malicious look on your face and whatever you're planning on doing—I think you'll end up getting hurt again.

"Well," I say, my eyes still wide with insanity, "That which doesn't kill me…"

And yes, if you haven't realized it yet—IT'S WAR.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Yikes, I think this is one of my shortest chapters because I did the one-word-per-line-thing. Yeah, it's a very space-using tactic that I don't suggest.**

**To the point—please review!**

**And also, I would recommend the book from the story, **_**Northanger Abbey **_**by Jane Austen to anyone. (Okay, maybe it's a girls' book.) It's my second favorite book after **_**Jane Eyre **_**by ****Charlotte Brontë, which I would also recommend!**

**Early nineteenth century books are the best!**


	6. Perilous Situations

Title- Just Stacey

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rating- T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, because if I did, I would be rich and not have to find a summer job, and be able to buy all of the cute clothes and books I wanted.**

**Serena- THANKS for all of the reviews I got last chapter. There were so many!**

**Green Animelover- ****Thanks for the review, because of that, I'll put something in Cedrics POV. That's a really good suggestion! Omg, cool! The guy who plays Cedric (Robert Pattinson??) is super cute.**

**Katy Leigh- ****Thanks for reviewing and it's good to hear that I'm not such a bad speller after all. (Spell check, heh…) and I'm glad I've got Cedric in character—I wasn't really sure about that. Guy-characters can be tricky. Thanks again!**

**t.A.T.u. Crazi-**** Thank you for your review! Stacey is glad to hear she had followers! (ha!)**

_Chapter Six; Perilous Situations…_

So.

After internally declaring war on Cho Chang, I giggle, and get up and run, leaving Cedric kneeling by the lake, probably thinking I'm a psychopath and it would do me good to spend the rest of my natural life in a padded cell.

OH WELL!

I spend the rest of the day holed up in the library reading _Northanger Abbey._

.x.X.x.

Cedric just stares after the girl running off, with her book clutched tightly to her chest. Wow.

Knowing someone like Stacey is a new experience for him. He has never known a girl to actually read outside of school requirements. But that's not all.

He'd known girls to be quite predictable. Stacey is practically unreadable. He can never guess just what is running through her mind. So they say that the eyes are the window to the soul…not for Stacey. Her eyes are dark and emotionless, revealing nothing. It is even like she doesn't WANT anyone to know what she is really thinking—or who she really is. It is frustrating to Cedric. Sort of like a secret he wasn't being let in on.

Yes, most annoying.

But yet, he feels like he has to keep going back to try to find out more. That's what he would do—he'd just find her again somewhere and figure her out.

Cedric stands up (after one last glance at Stacey's retreating figure) and makes his way back to the castle. Of course, as luck would have it, he runs into a certain pretty fifth year girl with a curtain of black hair, tucked behind her ears.

Cho Chang.

Upon seeing him, her eyes light up and she instantly smiles radiantly. Her smile is a beautiful one, always leaving every boy in the vicinity mesmerized. Cedric is no exception.

"Hi there, did you have fun last night… I know I did," she chides playfully, patting the rim around the fountain she is sitting, motioning him to come sit by her.

The fountain is one of a great, almost terrible looking dragon, spurting high gusts of water into the air, causing the whole courtyard to mist up from the spray.

"Cho," he begins, ignoring her question completely, "You wouldn't have anything to do with what happened to Stacey last night, would you?"

Cho doesn't even bat an eyelash, "Stacey?"

"Don't play dumb."

"Cedric… wha?"

Cedric is now leaning over her, with both hands resting on either side of her on the rim of the fountain. Their faces are merely inches apart. And for that matter Cedric's face does not look happy. He clutches the fountain rim Cho was sitting on so hard his knuckles are turning white. Cho just looks up in astonishment.

"If I find out that you hurt her in any way—" Cedric hisses down at her, but Cho quickly regains herself.

"Then what? What are you going to do about it?" she asks acidly, smirking devilishly.

A sure sign of guilt.

"Something dangerous and most likely not legal," he spits back, and shoves off the room, using his long legs to walk briskly away, leaving Cho there, a look of surprise over her lovely face.

That answer surprised him too. Just who is Stacey to him?

Well, she was a girl. Just a girl he doesn't even know hardly. A shy, unpopular, impossible to read girl, which is usually what guys try to avoid, right?

_Well,_ Cedric finds himself thinking, _Stacey's different._

And there you have it.

.x.X.x.

"Excuse me, dear," someone says, causing me to peer out from under the desk, away from _Northanger Abbey._

"Yes?" I ask, trying to wiggle my body around and not having too much luck altogether.

When I do get out of the desk, I see that it is the Headmaster himself—Professor Dumbledore. He's got on long dark robes, half-moon glasses, and long silver hair with a long silver beard. He's also smiling at me.

"Miss, do you mind answering a question of mine?" he asks, his blue eyes twinkling.

I think about it.

"Well, sir, it would depend on what that question is asking," I state.

"A wise statement to be sure," Professor Dumbledore muses, good-naturedly, "Would you like to hear the question?"

"I believe I should."

"Tell me, Stacey, who is it that Cedric cares about most?"

"Excuse me?"

"I believe you heard me—shall I repeat myself?"

"Well…" I begin slowly, "I have no supposition of the subject, sir."

"None at all?"

Hmmmm. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage…

Wow.

It rocks to be me. I always think of the BEEEESSSTTTT ideas. I smile maliciously and I rather think Professor Dumbledore notices it too. Maybe he's asking me for a reason…

"Why do you care to know, sir?" I ask, sort of beating around the bush.

If you get that.

"Some might consider it a bit of a perilous thing to happen to someone…" he begins, but trails off and starts again, "I am asking you because I thought you might have a certain poignant point of view of the matter. I value your opinion."

Which is another way of saying, "I'm on your side, Stacey."

"Well," he sighs, "If you really haven't got any suppositions—"

"Actually, sir," I interrupt, which is quite a bold thing for me, "I believe I do…."

"And?"

"A Miss Cho Chang, sir."

Professor Dumbledore smiles genuinely before turning away.

.x.X.x.

Okay, okay!

I know you are all probably wondering, "What the heck?" and are pretty confused. Let me shed some light then:

If you were to scan the previous conversation, you would pick up the words, "Cedric, perilous, poignant point of view, and opinion."

Let's piece that together. Cedric. If Dumbledore is mentioning Cedric, it is MOST LIKELY to be about the Triwizard Tournament, seeing as he is the Hogwarts champion for said tournament.

Perilous. Yes, the Triwizard Tournament is definitely perilous. And since the tournament seems to require another person—someone that the champions care about most.

To be put in a perilous position.

Dumbldore was giving me a way to get back at Cho.

And I took it.

Have a happy time in a perilous position because of Cedric's tournament, Cho Chang!

Do you get it now?

I feel so clever with myself I do a victory lap of the whole library grinning like a madwoman. It's good to be me, oh, it's good to be me. Other people WISH they could be Stacey. Just Stacey…

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Yeah, okay, it's a tad short, but that's just how it turned out.**

**Please review!**

**I've got a ton of reviews (a ton for me, anyway… so sad!) lately and I'd like to say THANK YOU!**

**Keep 'em comin'!**

…**Please…**

**Luv you all!!**


	7. The Second Task

Next step: Question around to rumors of the next task in the tournament

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rating- T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, he would not end up with Ginny in the end, sorry GinnyxHarry fans! Harry and Luna are a WAAAYYYY cuter couple!**

**Serena- Hey! I'm lovin' the reviews guys, thanks!**

**t.A.T.u Crazi-**** Thanks a bunch, you're a great reviewer! Also, Stacey and I are honored about you writing a story for us. We're loved after all! Thanks again!**

**Green Animelover-**** Thanks for your suggestion, I probably wouldn't have done Ced's POV otherwise. It really added a lot I think, so good call! I may even do it again! ;)**

**CES5410-**** Thank you, thank you, thank you for your nice comments! Stacey's going all gooey-eyed now! She loves you all, too!**

_Chapter Seven; The Second Task…_

Next step: Question around to rumors of the next task in the tournament.

Which, really shouldn't be hard, seeing as I am rooming with a most gossipy girl in the whole school—Bethany Rivers.

So one evening, I just sort of bring it up, sounding pretty casual. Ella says that when they opened the eggs they got, all there was was a horrible, indescribable screeching noise, shattering glass and whatnot.

Huh.

What are they going to do—make Cho listen to screeching babies until she goes crazy?

_No, no, Stacey,_ I think, _That's not logical. Babies can't shatter glass. Most babies anyway…_

Okay, so maybe the screeching is supposed to represent something else. Like…

Oh great, now I'm getting a headache from thinking too much. Now I'm beginning to feel scared. Girls like me aren't supposed to be trying to figure out tasks in the Triwizard Tournament. They are supposed to be hiding their faces behind books, which is what I have been happily doing for my whole life. What have I done, getting revenge on Cho?

Well, even if it turns out bad, it's not like my name will come out anywhere. I hardly doubt Dumbledore will tell. I breathe, and slowly attempt to calm myself down.

In, out, in, out, in, out, IN, OUT! That's better.

Odd eggs that make screeching sounds aside—maybe I'd better just work on that Charms essay. It's best to keep my mind focused. Cho would get her comeuppance and I, Stacey, would be the one to give it to her.

Yeah…

.x.X.x.

Today is the big day. Yup, you guessed it—The Second Task. Of course, I never planned on actually going (a point I made quite public) because of finding the first one so horrifying. So I surprise myself and a lot of other people by showing up to this one.

I want to see Cho.

We take our seats. There is a stadium around… the lake? So it's a water activity! Oh I can't wait until some water nymphs attack Cho, ripping out her hair or something!

Dumbledore comes on the announcements.

"Something has been taken from each champion during the night, and is now lying at the bottom of the lake. It is up to them to retrieve what has been taken." His voice echoes loudly, filling our ears.

I stare down at the black water of the lake. I've killed her. I've killed Cho Chang. I imagine her cold, pale, corpse lying on the bottom of the lake, her brown eyes wide open—unmoving. I feel like puking now.

"Stacey?" Naomi asks, noticing how sick I'm looking, "If you're getting sick again like last time, you shouldn't have come. Nothing's even happened yet… what is it?"

"How can they survive down there?" I whisper.

"Magic," was the only answer I get.

I don't know what to believe now. How deep was the water? A mile or two? I shudder, trying not to think about it. Looking down at the platform, a whistle sounds and all of the champions dive in. Harry Potter looks more like he was pushed in, his legs kicking the air before he falls in flat on his face. Ouch.

The second Fleur touches the water, some sort of evil-looking sea creatures suction on to her skin, trying to pull her under. Looking closer, I see that they are kelpies. Kelpies, which are known to do lot's of annoying things, one story says that they drag humans down to the bottom with their suction cups and steal their skin. They can shift their shape into friendly seahorses, and let humans on their backs drown, or turn into alluring young men to tempt young girls to follow them.

Wouldn't a simple banishing charm work fine? Why didn't Fleur put a protection shield about her, or wear a rune on a string to keep harmful magical creatures away? Or pray to the God Mars for unconditional protection?

_Play dead, Fleur! _I want to stand up and shout, _they don't want the skin of anything not alive!_

But she seems too scared out of her mind to have a sensible thought run through her mind. Poor girl. I sympathize her. I probably wouldn't be able to think very much in her situation, either.

Finally (not soon enough) two guys shoot curses at the kelpies, causing them to scream and duck back under the water, and they go and pull a sobbing Fleur out of the water.

After that, nothing much interesting happens. They announce Fleur's dropping out of this task, and then after about ten minutes of just staring at the empty surface of the lake… everybody is getting really bored.

Oh, how interesting! A lake! Let's just stare at it, shall we? Jolly good, jolly good!

What? It's not like we can see under the water or anything.

Fifteen minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Hardly anyone is waiting around now. They've all kind of walked away, going back into the castle where there's no FREEZING WIND or SNOW. Ella's nose is bright red, Summer just keeps looking around in her own Summer-way. Naomi and Bethany are both complaining and whining about how cold they are (it is pretty cold) and keep begging us to go in.

I just sit in my seat, my mitten-clad hands curled into fists on my knees. I stare anxiously at the lake, praying to Mars (the god of protection) to protect Cho.

"You can go, I'm not leaving," I say firmly.

"Suit yourself," Bethany says to me like I'm crazy or something.

So they're all gone now.

OH MY GOD!! I'm a murderer! I'm going to go to Azkaban! I'll have to share a cell with a Death Eater or something and my only friends will be psychos who murdered their husband with and ate their brains or dementors who want my soul.

And Cho will be dead.

And I won't see Cedric in Azkaban, unless he commits a violent crime. Then we'll both be in for life with no parole and WHERE WILL OUR FUTURE BE?

And for those of you evil truth-tellers saying, "Uh, Stacey… what future with Cedric?" Shhhh! I don't want to be reminded of the reality that Cedric thinks I'm some idiot-tard.

Anyway, back to me freaking out about Cho:

Half an hour.

Forty-five minutes.

I'm truly dying here. I'm just about the only sucker out here now.

An hour.

An hour and a half.

People are trickling back to see if anyone's placed yet. I'm frozen in this position. You know… I bet my face will be frozen in this expression forever. God, I hope it's at least a _slightly_ flattering one…

And now, Cedric's head bobs up above the water. His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and Cho is with him. I see that she is very alive and very pissed off. Yeah… stuck on the bottom of the lake for probably two hours(ish) in early January. I'm not really worried anymore.

HA! LOOK AT CHO FREAKIN' CHANG! SHE LOOKS LIKE AN OLD WOMAN THAT GOT HER WHEELCHAIR WHEELED OFF OF MOUNT EVEREST AND DOWN TO THE BOTTOM OF THE CHUANG RIVER!

I get off the seat, crouch down in the walkway, staring at my ankles and laugh so hard that I'm really crying.

Cho would never know that it was me, NOBODY would ever know that it was me that nominated her for this. Besides Dumbledore. But I don't really care—it's worth it just to see her like this.

They wrap her in a towel and the look on her face makes me die from laughing all over again. Cedric looks rather sheepish, but doesn't seem to feel too sorry for her. Before they throw a towel around his shoulders, I get glimpse of his body.

Wow, he's hot!

He's got on swim shorts and a sleeveless athletic shirt on, so you could see his arms. Damn it, why didn't I consider buying a camera to bring here? I could get both Cho and Cedric. One of Cho's face (which I will never forget) and one of how amazing and sexy Cedric is.

Well, you're not supposed to dwell on the what-ifs, they always say.

I still want a camera.

Eventually Cho walks off, and the moment I had been so anxiously awaiting is over. But I was an idiot to ever consider NOT doing this. Heh, the best laugh I've had in weeks.

At the same time… I wanted more. I was getting to used to this revenge thing. Gotta pull myself together and be Stacey again.

I turn on my heel and hurry back to the castle. I'm going to go read some more. Besides, classes start again soon.

Betcha can't wait to see how ridiculous _THAT _is going to be!

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Kay, kay, this chapter wasn't as good as others, but PLEASE KEEP READING!!**

**And review! Reviews are cool!**

**And a warning…**

**We ALL know that Ced can't really live 'till the end, right?**

**Just don't be alarmed in the last chapter.**

**Luv you all!**


	8. Sunny Mornings Are For Idiots

**Title- Just Stacey**

**Author- 4give4get**

**Rated- T**

**Pairing- CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter. If I did... (imagines the possibilities) Bam! I'd be the ultra writer! And no one would care if I shaved myself bald and wore a toupe (sp?). I could then go into a public place and pick it up and scratch under it while putting it back down backwards. But... alas, I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Serena- I know, I know (dodges tomatoes) I haven't updated since the dinosour age. Some call it writer's block (it wasn't) but I call it my mind being warped by some unseen force and I was finally driven completely insane. No, I cannot blame writer's block (that would be lying) but if I blamed it on laziness... well, that wouldn't be far from the truth, so let's just say that. I'M SO SORRYYYY!**

**I have this WHOLE story planned out like a film show in my mind, so writer's block is not an issue, don't worry. And also, I said before on how I was going to kill Cedric, and blah, blah, blah. I'm going to compromise with you: I have an obligation (to myself--insane, remember?) to actually let it follow the same story in Joanne Rowling's version of GOF. So I've decided to make the whole Ced-dying-thing easier. I'll give you ONE hint. The last chapter will be called _Who I Would Have Been._**

**Kay, I'll shut up now.**

_Sunny Mornings Are For Idiots..._

I wake up to the orange-red of sunshine on my eyelids. Its warmth covers my skin and makes be feel like Supergirl. Yes... charged by the sun, or whatever. The thing is, I never wake up like this usually. Good omen?

...Perhaps...

I breathe deeply and open my eyes. Yes, the sun is shining in the window and today all of my dreams are going to come true, etc, etc. Until my eyes wander and out of the corner of my vision I look at the clock on Ella's end table.

And realize classes are starting NOW.

I'm out of bed in an instant and sprawled all over the floor, courtesy of Summer's stupid tennis shoe, in another. I moan, pick myself up, and throw on my school uniform. My skirt is wrinkled from lying on the floor under my bed for about a week and a half. I quickly tie my Hufflepuff tie and step into my shoes, not bothering to push my heels all the way in. That can be done later.

Hair--well, that is a luxury time cannot afford. I will go to class sporting SCBH. Stacey's Customized Bed Head. School bag is slung over my shoulder and I'm running as if my life depended on it. (Which, it might--you never know.)

First class: Transfiguration. Professor McGonnagall eyes me as I rush in the door, looking like I had a duel with some P.O.ed dwarves or something. She was a small woman. Shorter. She has stern features and stern eyes. Her sternness is not at all helped by the spectacles she keeps perched on her nose. Her lips are eternally stuck in a pursed expression as though as a child her parents shoved lemons in her mouth while she was sleeping. Her eyes are blue and make you feel guilty before you even do anything. Her favorite color appears to be deep, dark, emerald green. Or it must be--all of her robes are that color in velvet.

"Stacey," she says, icily, "Were you aware that class in this school started at eight o'clock sharp?"

"Well... I might have been... A little bit... had some idea..."

"On your first day back after Christmas vacation I shall perhaps pardon you this time," she continued, holding her face high (for a shorter woman) as she usually does, "But do not make me regret doing so. In order to do that--I would not put a single toe out of line for the rest of this year."

"If I were you," she added, dramatically.

"Yes, Professor... ma'am... most sincere appologies... won't happen again... quite sorry."

I demurly take my seat and I can feel my cheeks burning up. I bet EVERYONE in the room is looking RIGHT at me. Which, for people like me is terrifying... please understand that. That nun idea I had really sounds good now.

Now that Professor McGonagall seems to be done mortifying me as amusment in her sorry life as a teacher she decides it's time to begin class. I bring my knees together under the desk and duck my head down and open my text book in front of my face, hoping it hides be from all angles. Not really.

I feel so self-consious I think I could die. I forgot how much I hated classes for this reason. My thoughts become loud in my head and everything is magnified in my vision. My head sort of swirls and my palms grow sweaty. What is this always familiar sick feeling in the pit of my stomach? It feels like I've jumped off of a skyscraper.

I try to rub my hands on my skirt to reduce the sweat but it's replaced rather too quickly. I try focusing my mind on what Professor McGonagall is actually saying.

Shrinking spells.. why, how interesting. Please tell me I remembered to throw my wand in my bag! I quickly shove my hand in it and feel my fingers wrap themselves around a wand. My wand. Feeling like an idiot, I pull it out and rest it on my desk.

I begin to plow my way through the day like a snow plower through the Yukon territory.

Professor Snape spends the whole class period peering over my shoulder and critizing me and pointing out what I'm doing wrong. Does he ever offer any help? Of course not! What do you think this is? That would surely be to nice and human-like! Professor Snape offering me help would be like him washing his hair:

NEVER. GOING. TO. HAPPEN.

Did I spell it out simply enough?

I should have.

Defense Against the Dark Arts I have with Naomi. Professor Moody apparently didn't get plastic surgeory over break like we were all hoping and still looks like a shark came up and bit half of his face off while perminantly mangling the other. Maybe he is beyond plastic surgeory anyway. I would hardly be suprised.

I take my seat next to Naomi and see that she's got this month's copy of _Witch Weekly _hidden inside her DADA textbook. Her dark hair looks as cool as ever. Chopped short, jagged, with long bangs. One of her brown eyes is covered by said bangs, but the other glances up at me as I take my seat.

"Stace," she comments, "You look like... well, crap."

I have almost forgotten about my late start this morning.

"Uh-huh, would it have killed you to have woken me up?"

As Professor Moody begins class, I hush up, not wanting to possibly draw any more attention to myself today. Why did I think this would be a good day when I woke up again? Sunny mornings are for idiots. Like me, heh...

You know, I bet there might even be a reason for Professor Moody's well... moodiness. I'll bet he probably wanted to become a famous, glamorous model and have a big tower in which he could spit off of. But, when he retired, he was forced to become a teacher instead of following his life-long goal he had to become a teacher instead, and therefore decided to declare war on the human race. Well, that's my theory.

My mind wanders and I simply begin drawing all over the margins of the notes I am taking. I write Cedric's name in all of the creative handwritings I possess. I add some hearts in and around there too. It's really quite a masterpeice.

It'll be framed in an art museum one day. Stacey's DADA Notes, it shall be called. School children will look at it with wonder and art professors will comment on it while sounding intelligent and I will be so rich I'll have a pool full of jell-o and huge mansion in France and I'll have a laser gun on the roof and trained attack dogs will prowl the grounds. I'll wear diamonds, I'll hire Cho Chang as the person to clean up the dog's poop, Cedric will love me, and I'll go to the moon for vacation every year. I'll be on TV, I'll offer to pay for Professor Moody's plastic surgeory, Professor Snape can help Cho with the dog poop, and--

"What is one downside to performing the Imperious Curse?"

Professor Moody is asking it, I realize as I pull myself out of my day dream. I've since drawing more hearts and scrawled Cedric's name some more. I cover it with my arm and look up. Professor Moody's creepy eye is looking directly at me!

He's asking ME this question!

"Uhhhhh..." I begin, sounding like I've got an IQ of roughly negative a hundred.

Oh great, how the heck would I know that! Hufflepuff... right... Okay, so let's look at this logically, shall we? Imperious Curse--to be in complete control of someone's mind and therefore their body. A downside to that...? Your subject will begin bottling their farts? Once again, my mind is getting me no where.

"I'm afraid...not quite sure...repeat the question...give it a moment...don't know..." I stutter again.

"Let me see your notes," he demands, limping over here. He's even scarier up close. I want to run away. I could just grab my notes (decorated in Cedric's name and hearts) and run out of the classroom. Too bad I'm currently too scared to move. I'm not even breathing. Too scared.

Mortification fills my viens and they pound in my temples. He's going to see my notes!

MY.

LIFE.

IS.

**_OVER._**

Nice knowing you all.

I'll never be able to show my face in respectable society again! My eye twitches. I'm not even fit to be a nun anymore.

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

Professor Moody reaches out and pulls my notes out from under my arm. I'm feeling like I might have a heart attack.

...djkldskljfdhjgfh...

My brain is hardly even functioning.

Both eyes (fake and not) scan over the paper, his lips forming the words I've written. The first half is actual notes. The second half... well, you know...

"Since," Professor Moody's voice cuts my concentration, "You do not respect me as a teacher as to pay actual attention in this class, I see no reason to respect you privacy. Why don't we show this to the whole class?"

"Very sorry...please, sir...most cruel...won't happen any more... promise..."

He turns and walks back over towards his board which was half-full of writing. With his wand, he sticks the paper to the board. For all to see.

"Make sure you all check out Stacey's MOST INTERESTING notes after class. No rush, they'll be here all week."

I feel acid come up from my stomach into the back of my throat. ALL WEEK!?

Imagine how many people are going to see it! The whole school! CEDRIC! CHO! EVERYONE! I'm feeling faint now. I'm sick, I am most deffinitely sick. Is this sort of punishment really legal?

Sadly, yes.

I just stare at the notes on the board in horror. I think Naomi's rubbing my back. The giggling of the class is magnified. Glancing over at the clock I see that in less than five minutes class will be over and everyone will rush up to the board to read my notes. Less than five minutes until the end of my life. And then another class will begin... UNTIL THE END OF THE WEEK.

I consider running up and ripping it off and eating it, or something. Profesor Moody still has his wand in his pocket. If I got up, he'd curse me so fast I wouldn't have a chance to blink. He would--I've heard from Bethany that he turned a student into a ferret. Why would I be different?

I try to breath, but it's still strangled. I'll just have to write my mother to please let me come home and transfer me to a diferent school. This will follow me for the rest of my life.

"You are dismissed," Professor Moody anounced, but I hardly hear his words.

The entire class minus Naomi and I rush up to the board. I run the other way--out of the room. I just close my eyes and run. I might be crying. I can hardly hear Naomi calling my name. But I don't care. As I run her voice fades more and more until she is so far away, I'll bet we're miles apart.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Hope that was long enough, thanks for all of you that reviewed! Sorry again for the long wait, I'll try not to let that happen again.**

**THANKSSSS!!**


	9. More Girl Emotions

EE- YAY

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. And although Stacey is a character out of my imagination, I do not own her—she owns me.**

**Serena- Hey, ya'll! Thanks for the reviews, that's pretty cool! **

**CEA5410-**** I KNOW! (About the pool full of jell-o thing) That would be so awesome! Thanks, thanks, for the great review, YOU'RE SUPER! **

**t.A.T.u. Crazi-**** Sure, sure! Use Stacey, just be warned she sticks in your head! She has a rein of terror over me and I think she possesses me some of the time. BUT, she's a joy, and you have my full permission. If you need any help just message me, or say so in a review. Thanks for your reviewing, I WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT YOU!**

**Green Animelover-**** Thank you, thank you, it's always good to hear your opinion, and you make a point that it really would be Moody/Crouch, not just Moody. Almost forgot that, there! Thanks!**

**And I'm sorry it took so long. Long story about that…**

**Well, you see, I got up one morning and saw that something was wrong with this computer and it wouldn't turn on. I blamed it on my brother (heh, heh) and explained that he HAD to fix it so I could upate.**

**And that a-hole was all like, "Just use the other computer!" I explained to him that this WHOLE story was on the broken computer, and he shrugged. I screamed at him for about a week and a half until my dad finally got home from his business trip and forced him to fix it for me.**

**That bitch. If you don't have a brother, taking the time now to give thanks for it. Brothers are stupid and don't fix things for you when you tell them to.**

_More Girl Emotions…_

I am sick. I am Stacey, and I am SICK. What do I have? Not sure, give me a minute to come up with some lethal disease…

How about BRANDED-AS-A-FREAK-FOR-THE-REST-OF-MY-NATURAL-LIFE-it is? Or MY-LIFE-IS-OVER-theria? Okay, okay, but isn't MORTIFICATION a diagnosable illness? It had better be! I have been lying under my bed for the last half of today, skipping dinner and a few classes. But do you think I care?

No, I do not care.

There is dust under here, but I'm used to it. I consider suicide. I could drown myself in the bathtub. I could take a flying leap off the Astronomy Tower. Hmmm…

What would people think when they found my broken, bleeding, oozing body on the stone walkway below? They'd probably remember the Cedric-notes and just laugh.

"Ha, what a loser!"

This would be written on my tombstone! _Here lies Stacey, the biggest idiot to ever walk the Earth. When she was fifteen years old, she wrote Cedric Diggory's name all over her notes! We all remember it! Feel free to roll your tractors over this spot._

So even dying would be embarrassing. There's really no escape, is there? Maybe I can just live under this bed forever. I'll ask Bethany and Summer to bring me food and news of the outside world.

"They're still going on man-hunts for you," I imagine they would tell me, "They have pitchforks and torches and they want to find you and lynch you behind the Quiditch field."

"Stacey!" the door is flung open and I hear Naomi shout first.

Dinner must be over.

"Is she in here?" Summer must be behind her.

I see a pair of black combat boots walk around my bed, before Naomi crouches down and looks me in the eye.

"Come out from under there."

"No."

"We snuck up some food for you, sorry it took a while," she has me at the food part, and I oblige and wiggly myself free from the dusty underside of the bed.

I fall to a sit on my bed and glare back and forth between Naomi and Summer, "Well? Where's the loot? I'm starving here!"

And I am. My stomach begins growling once reminded of something other than my Cedric-notes. I hadn't eaten since lunch. Back when I still held shrouds of hope that I may get a normal chance at life after all. Oh, how things can change in the matter of a few hours.

Summer pulls a napkin out of her bag, and sets it on my lap. YESSSS. Food for the starving woman.

Inside the napkin is chicken, a slice of bread and a piece of cherry pie.

"I love you," I say, digging in, not really caring that I'm using my fingers.

"Huh, look at her," Naomi comments, "You'd think she'd never eaten before in her life."

"Uhhhhhh…" I say, finishing off the chicken, "Fast metabolism."

What? A girl's got to eat, hasn't she?

When I'm done, I wash my hands, and fall back again. Summer bites her lip.

"Naomi told me what happened," she begins.

"You mean you didn't see it yourself?" I frown.

"Well… that too, I guess. But I didn't know you took it so hard."

WHAT THE HELL? How could I NOT take it hard?

I sit up and stare straight at them, "Tell me, is the whole school talking about it?"

"Uhhh… no," Summer replies, "Not really. A _few _people might have mentioned it, but it's not that bad."

"But didn't everyone see it?" I press on.

"Yeah, but not everyone in the whole school knows who you are. And the Cedric-thing…" Summer takes a breath and then continues, "Well, you'd hardly be the only girl in the school who fancies him, you know."

She has a point.

But that is only about SAY…. 25 percent of a thorn out of my side. The other 75 percent is what Cho Chang would say to me. My revenge from earlier means nothing now. She has me squashed under her thumb, and the next time she sees me, she's going to taunt me until I go crazy!

And then, of course, there's Cedric. Not that he ever thought very much of me, but I'm still embarrassed about it. He isn't supposed to KNOW that I'm in love with him!

So this is possibly the worst day of my life.

And it's all Professor Moody's fault. DAMN HIM! Hey, Professor Asshole, Stacey is comin' atcha! Who spit in his bean curd, anyway? Oh well, as of today, HE HAS MADE A _**VERY**_ DANGEROUS ENEMY! Just wait until I get my hands on him…

He'll turn me into a ferret, won't he?

Stacey the Ferret. Does that sound bad?

Well, maybe I can live a peaceful life as a ferret and forget my Cedric-notes ever happened.

"So," Naomi begins, "What are you going to do, Stace?"

I know. Oh, I know what I'll do.

"I'm going to kill Cho Chang."

Which is more than a little bit random. But that's okay.

.x.X.x.

Cedric can honestly say that Stacey could write his name better than he can himself. She wrote it in round cursive, and slanty, pointed writing. She is elegant with a pen. Her hearts have nice shapes also. The first half of the notes are even amusing as well.

Cedric imagines her sitting uncomfortably as she always does in class, trying to pay attention to class. But not really doing so well. The notes are short and brief, not saying enough to study very well with them.

As he walks out of Professor Moody's classroom, another thought hits him. Stacey must have killed herself over this! His fellow classmates laugh and pat his back, commenting on the notes, but he ignores them. They're so ignorant. What do any of they know about her, anyway?

None of them even know Stacey, so he feels awfully like hitting them. But then Cedric reminds himself that he hardly knows Stacey either. Does anybody? She seems to hide herself quite well.

At dinner, Cho Chang approaches him, smirking for everyone to see. She stands behind him and rests her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Ced. Did you see Stacey's latest big flop at life?"

He pushes her hands off of him, "Cho, stay away from me. And better yet, stay away from Stacey too."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Cho demands. She looks dangerous. Dangerous, but beautiful, as always.

"You heard what I said," Cedric snaps back, standing up to face her.

The whole room is hushed and just stars at them.

Cho's angry, pretty brown eyes begin to well up, "My friends were all right about you! And you know what? I am SICK of you, Cedric Diggory! I hate you! You are THEE most insufferable boy I've ever had the displeasure to meet!"

She stops short as she begins openly crying, "What did I ever see in you?" she wails, and runs out of the place with her hands over her face, slamming the door behind her.

Cedric is in shock. Who knew a girl could get so… so…_angry?_ No one is eating, but instead have their eyes fixed on him, wondering how he would react, most likely.

"What?" he demands, "Do you think I care about her?"

Cedric storms out of the room (opposite direction of Cho) deciding he's had enough girl emotions for the day.

He walks down to the lake… will he think it.?...hoping to find Stacey. He's disappointed to see only Victor Krum paddling across the middle of the dark, eerie waves. The lakeside is bare.

_End Chapter._

**Serena- I know, I know, short, uneventful chapter. Sorry, and please review!**


	10. Who Wears Pants Anyway?

Title- Just Stacey

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter, the story, or the character (even though I don't really use Harry) and I don't own Cedric or Cho. Although I wish I did. If I was Ms. Rowling, and owned Harry Potter, I would have saved Cedric in the end of GOF. I cry every time I read that part. Nor do I own Catherine Morland, Jane Austen does. Or did, anyway. **

**Serena- Yes, another chapter. I felt pretty bad about how the last one turned out, so I felt like I owed you guys another one. THANKS FOR READING!**

_Who Wears Pants Anyway?…._

"_A heroine returning at the close of her career, to her native village, in all triumph of recovered reputation, and all dignity of a countess… is an event on which the pen of the contriver may well delight to dwell; it gives credit to every conclusion, and the author must share in the glory she so liberally bestows. —But my affair is widely different; I bring back my heroine to her home in solitude and disgrace; and no sweet elation of spirits can lead me into minuteness. A heroine in a hack post-chaise is such a blow upon sentiment, as no attempt of grandeur or pathos can withstand. Swiftly therefore shall her post-boy drive through the village, amid the gaze of Sunday groups, and speedy shall be her descent from it."_ I read, barely over a whisper to myself.

I look up from _Northanger Abbey_ and sigh. Poor Catherine. Poor me… I am in solitude and disgrace like her, aren't I?

It's been three days since THE EVENT (if you don't know what I'm talking about, use your imagination) and yes, I'm in solitude and disgrace. Summer was partially right. Most people don't really care about stuff like that, nor do they know who I am.

But I'm still waiting for that run-in with Cho. It will happen. I KNOW it will happen.

I stare out at the lake. And I suddenly want to take a swim. It's February, and freezing cold, no snow, but still cold. And I want to swim. Victor Krum can do it, right?

Please don't start making a list of everything he can do that I can't, I am AWARE that the following could fill several books.

I set down _Northanger Abbey_ and wade in, not really bothering to kick off my shoes or socks. The water BITES, it's so cold. But as I go deeper and deeper, I find that I can even ignore it. Deciding to put my head under, I bite my lip and hold my breath. The lake water folds around me like deep green silk.

I glance over at the retreating sun and at the castle. Everyone else is in their dorms, winding down for the day. I let myself float some. The freezing, green lake water dances about in waves, softly caressing my face.

I begin to imagine all sorts of things. Like a time long since past. How many other people have swam in this lake on a cold, February evening? I think back hundreds of years ago. Leaning back, I splash around with my arms imagine the water as green satin ribbons.

I feel like a Celtic goddess or something. I giggle and put my head under again. The rocks form dark and mystic shapes under there. I see something glint out of the corner of my eye.

It was right down… THERE. It is deeper out there, but not horribly deep. Probably not yet fifteen feet. I kick off a rock and investigated the deep lakebed. My fingers brush over sand and other tiny rocks, looking for whatever had reflected the light.

I can't find a single thing, and soon I need more air. I kick off and as soon as my head breaks the surface I take a deep breath. SWEET AIR.

I also see that on the lakeshore, Cedric Diggory is standing there, looking right at me. GOOD GREIF. Why is it that whenever I'm doing something like swimming randomly in a lake, he is always there too?

Shy all of a sudden, I swim back over to where I can stand, and climb out, squeezing the water out of my skirt.

"No! Don't go!" he shouts, briskly walking over.

What does he want, anyway?

I don't leave, but I don't fully turn to face him either. I can't. He's too beautiful, and I'm too—well… Stacey-ish.

I wipe the water blots off of my glasses, though.

"Aren't you cold?" he asks.

"Only a little," I say, and it's a tad of a lie, because oh, I'm only FREEZING OVER HERE.

"Uh, Stacey," Cedric begins, and I turn my head a little towards him. He's rubbing the back of his neck and looking awkwardly down at his shoes. Almost like he's embarrassed about something.

I have got my pants on, right? Joking, joking…

Having figured out that he's about to say something somewhat serious, I actually face him. What a switch this is, HE is stumbling for words, not I.

"Stacey?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Where is this going?

"No."

"Do you think I'm likable?"

Curious. Slightly curious, is all I have to say.

"Yes."

"Do you like me?"

"Yes."

"I have to tell you something…but not here…" he trails off.

There's more?

"And?" I prompt.

"Would you meet me at the tea shop in Hogsmead next Saturday?"

"I would."

"Will you?" Cedric corrects himself.

"Yes," I say,

"Well, great," he says, probably suffering from a lack of anything else to say.

"Um, Cho Chang isn't going to be there is she?" I ask, wincing, making sure.

His face looks at me oddly, but then replies in the negative as if that's the stupidest question in the world.

Which, maybe it is, I don't know.

I shudder from the cold. I'm dripping wet and rather miserable. I think of a hot shower and dry sweat pants. Ahhhhh.

So it doesn't dawn on me that CEDRIC DIGGOY asked me out until I'm in the dorm bathroom and halfway out of my wet clothes.

WAS THAT REAL?

Or a dream?

He said he needed to tell me something… but what? WHO CARES? I, Stacey, am going on a date (sort of) with Cedric Diggory! Wasn't it only a few months ago that I was thinking on how hopeless my situation was? AND NOW THIS!

I run out of the bathroom and laugh like a maniac, "NAOMI! SUMMER! ELLA! BETHANY! GUESS _WHAT?"_

Naomi looks up from _Witch Weekly,_ "Stacey, you might not realize this, but it's past eleven o'clock, you are soaking wet and haven't got any pants on."

"Does that matter?" I am giddy now, "Ask me what happened, please, please, please!"

"What happened?"

"CEDRIC ASKED MY OUT! LAAAAAAA!" I jump around from bed to bed, screaming.

"Are you serious?" Summer wants to know.

"YES! IT WASN'T A DREAM, EITHER!"

Bethany screams and hugs me. Summer jumps up from her bed.

"You mean it? Cedric Diggory?"

"YEAH!"

Before you know it, we're all screaming and laughing so that someone knocks on the door.

"Will you lot be quiet in there?"

I fling open the door and shout into the hall, "NO!"

An older girl in her pajamas is standing on the threshold and just stares at me, "Where are your pants?"

"What? Pants are for losers!" I slam the door in her face, and just sink into my joy and pleasure again about Saturday.

I eventually do shower and put some pants on. And sleep rather well. I'm going to the teashop with Cedric in two days.

Who woulda thought?

Not I.

.x.X.x.

Saturday didn't come soon enough. So maybe it SEEMED like forever. But it's here now, and I feel rather sick.

"What are you going to wear, Stace?" Bethany asks, lying on her stomach on my bed, staring at me, staring at myself in the long mirror Naomi put up in the beginning of the term. I look like a toad.

I examine my face. I would say UGLY, but I definitely wouldn't say pretty, either. I step back and look at my body. I wouldn't say FAT, but I wouldn't say thin, either.

Good, bad?

"I don't know," I reply, biting my lip.

"Well," Naomi puts in, jumping on top of Bethany, causing her to shriek in surprise, "What sort of look are you going for—wanton or demure?"

"What the hell kind of a question is that?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips.

"Exactly as it sounds, idiot!" she retorts back, sitting on poor Bethany the whole time, "Wonton or demure?"

I turn back around and examine my face again. Was that face even CAPABLE of looking wonton?

No. No, it was not.

"I was not thinking either. I was thinking along the lines of what a NORMAL PERSON looks like!" I say, defiantly.

"Demure then," Naomi decides, climbing off of Bethany and begins to make a real mess of the room trying to find something.

"What are you looking for?"

"An outfit for you, help me!" she tears apart trunk after trunk.

We all look through every article of clothing in that room. Bethany wants me to wear a black and white waist-high skirt.

"Beth, I can't a skirt!" I cry.

"Why not?"

"Many reasons—it's February!"

"But, Stace," Bethany hugs the skirt, "It's lucky. And a quite a nice skirt."

"It's perfectly nice," I agree, "But Beth, you would look great in that skirt—I would… well, I would look like a toad wearing a skirt!"

"You don't want to look _too _nice. It is only a teashop after all," Summer puts in loudly.

"Let her wear my ripped jeans," Naomi suggests.

"Yeah," Ella jumps up from her seat, "And my pink tennis shoes!"

So I am pretty soon dressed and they all pronounce me date-worthy and sexy. Great. Now I just have to not faint and we're golden!

I meet him by the entrance and he smiles at me. I smile back and I hope I don't look like Godzilla doing it. If I do, he doesn't show it.

So, first we walk.

"Hi," he says, "Thanks for coming."

HE is thanking ME? Talk about irony.

"No problem," I force myself to speak, "Just out of curiosity, is what you're going to tell me bad?"

Good job, Stacey. Bringing THAT up. Just enjoy, okay? But noooo, I had to bring up the reason I'm even here.

Cedric smiles sheepishly, and turns away, "Uh, about that."

Oh god.

"What?" I demand.

He turns back to face me, his beautiful face and all, "I was just saying that. I guess I was scared you'd reject me."

INTERESTING. But I will admit, it is a lot of weigh off of my shoulders knowing that. And then, I realize that he wasn't just asking me out for reasons unknown—he actually likes me! Or must… a little…

"That's funny," I say, staring down at Ella's shoes on my feet, "I was actually hoping you'd say something like that."

WHAT DID I JUST SAY?

Did that sound totally pathetic and stupid? I've got to watch what I say more… But Cedric actually looks relieved after I say that. I mean, I'm not a relationship counselor but that IS a good sign, yes?

"So we're on the same page now?" he asks, looking down at me seriously. God, he's adorable when he looks serious.

"Yup," I reply, and we reach the teashop.

We sit down at an outdoor table, despite the cold. I don't really mind it now, I guess. And I fold my hands in front of my chin like you always see in movies.

"Tell me about you, Stacey," is the first thing Cedric says as we get our tea.

"Why? I'm boring," I admit, blowing the steam forming on my teacup.

"Because I'm interested in you. So… talk," he explains, scooting his chair closer to the table, making my heart skip a beat or two.

"Well," I choke the words out, "What do you want to know?"

"You'll tell me anything I want?"

"Well, that really depends…"

"Just agree, it'll go faster," he advises, grinning.

"Fine, shoot."

"Where do you live?"

"London."

"So vague…"

"Vague question. Next!"

"Your favorite color?"

"Black."

"Why?"

"Because… reasons," I stutter, "Kind of complicated."

"Tell me," Cedric insists.

"Next."

"Fine. Favorite season?"

"Easy—autumn."

"Do you like flowers?"

"Name one girl you know who doesn't," I remark, dryly.

"Good point," he laughs, "What place is the farthest you've been from home?"

I smile crookedly, "Right here. Hogsmeade."

"That's it?" he seemed astonished.

"Okay, my turn," I announce, "If you're so surprised at my lack of traveling, where's the farthest place _you've _been?"

"Pyongyang, probably," he answers, sipping his tea.

"Holy crap!" I blurt, "Where is that, anyway?"

"North Korea," he seems confused that I am so shocked.

"What were you even doing in North Korea?" I ask.

"Quiditch tournament. Really big game… a lot of people went," He explains.

"Wow," I breathe, "What's it like there?"

"Pretty interesting actually," Cedric smirks and tells me all about North Korea.

The conversation then slips back to me, and I don't know why, but it makes me sort of uncomfortable. But, hey! I've come a long way. I am no longer awed to be in Cedric's very presence, and can even talk to him pretty easily. So what if I can't really tell him about myself?

When the bill comes, I reach for by bag, but Cedric stops me, "The girl isn't supposed to pay, Stacey."

He does pay, and I thank him. I guess chivalry isn't dead after all.

When it's time to report back to the castle, he even walks me all the way to the Ravenclaw common room! I say a rather awkward good-bye, see you later, and he just smiles and squeezes my hand.

And then walks off.

I make a mental note to ask Bethany what that means later.

I run up to our dorm, to see Ella, Bethany, Naomi, and Summer. They must have been waiting.

"So…" Summer trails off.

"It was great!" I gush, "Absolutely perfect! And neither of us mentioned Cho once!"

"Uh, Stace, why would he?" Naomi asks, looking at me strangely.

"You never know," I sniff, and fall back onto Ella's bed, "It was the best day of my life!"

"Great," Bethany giggles, but then straightens up and barks, "Details, woman!"

"Um… he paid?"

"Well, I would hope so. After all, he was the one that asked you," Summer points out.

"Come on, you've got to say more than that!" Bethany whines.

"And he walked me back here," I say, uncertain what she'll make of this information.

"And…" Naomi pushes me.

"He squeezed my hand and left," I finish.

"You mean that rat didn't kiss you?" Bethany screams.

"Why would he?" I shout back, "It was the first date, okay?"

"Oi, shut up in there!" someone banged on the wall and shouted from another dorm.

"I've got pants on this time!" I yell at the wall, and then turn back to the rest, "That's about it."

"Well, so far so good," Ella points out.

"Yeah, congrats, Stace, I knew you could do it!" Summer hugs me.

Ha, from fan club captain to person he actually associates himself with. In under two months. Yeah, I'm pretty cool.

"Are you going home for Easter?" Naomi asks Summer.

"No, my parents are working, anyway."

"So are mine," Bethany says, "But that's okay, we can check out boys while the classes are out, Summer!"

They high five.

"Boy crazy freaks," Naomi snorts, "Leave me the hell out!"

"You're staying?" I ask.

"Yeah, my mom's not working, but my brother is going, so she'll be satisfied with just him around," she explains.

"What are you doing Ella?" I ask.

"Going to Wales to stay with my great-aunt," she moans, falling on her bed on top of me, "She's going to make me eat everything she cooks. Her cakes could be sharpened and used as swords!"

"Kill her with one," Naomi jokes.

"I wish."

"You, Stace?"

"My mum's working," I tell them, "But I'm going anyway."

"A truly dedicated daughter," Summer finishes.

Perhaps. Easter comes in a matter of weeks. I sort of can't wait. But I sleep well. The best I've slept in a long time. Years, maybe. Professor Moody and my Cedric-notes are laughable. And the last thing on my mind.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Over and out!**

**Thanks for reading, please review! Thanks again for being so patient! Blame my brother for it all!**


	11. Home, Sweet Home

Chapter Eleven

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would probably try to put more romance-y stuff in it, and ergo ruin it. So be thankful.**

**Serena- Hey! Thanks for reviewing! (wink)**

**t.A.T.u. Crazi-**** Thanks for the great review (again!) and sure, PM me anytime you need help! (I've got nothing better to do… heh, heh) And glad you liked the break-up scene, I liked writing it!**

**lazer-angel-**** Thanks for checking out my story and reviewing! Yeah, I totally had a brain fart about the Hufflepuff thing, sorry if that confused you! Thanks for pointing it out, I have NO IDEA why I wrote that. Wasn't thinking… Anyway, glad you like this story!**

**Green Animelover-**** Thanks again for reviewing, and I agree—Cho isn't even likeable in the books, where at least she isn't openly evil.**

_Home, Sweet Home…_

Ella lays her head on my lap as the train begins to gather speed. Yup, it's just Ella and Stacey off on a grand adventure to Kings Cross. I open up _Northanger Abby _and begin reading.

But soon I'm just staring at the window, watching the countryside pass. A tree. A smashed up fence. Some abandoned-looking stone thing that must have once been a house. The usual.

About halfway through the journey I finish _Northanger Abby._ It's a happy ending, I would have suspected it more had there been such thing as a Hollywood ending back in the 1790s. Catherine Morland gets past the low part in the story, and triumphs. She marries Henry Tilney anyway, and pretty much gives Isabella Thorpe the finger, 1700s-style.

I wish happy endings actually happened in real life. But our lives aren't really OVER until we're dead though, right? So, far all we know Catherine and Henry get a divorce and Catherine gets her eyes gouged out by angry cats and is forced to work in an old castle, sweeping the floors.

Wait. How could she sweep if she had no eyes? I take back the angry-cat-thing. But you get the idea. Like, today, someone could get married and live _happily ever after _in their posh mansion by the sea, but then get a bad divorce and ditch the woman with the kids, and a tidal wave washes away the mansion, killing the guy and his new girlfriend, but of course, they wouldn't mention the last part.

So, I'm still thinking about how likely it would be to survive a tidal wave landing directly on your head when we arrive in London. Ella is buried in candy wrappers and we instantly jump up as to avoid being asked to clean it up.

Out on the platform, I give her a hug, "Have fun in Wales."

"Oh yes," Ella shoots back, "Fun, fun, fun. What do I ever have but fun?"

"Bring me back some cakes, will you?" I laugh.

"Sharpened ones," she agreed, and wandered off to board the next train to Wales.

I drag my trunk along through the station. Outside where the cars were idling, I se the gray top to my mother's beat-up old Ford. I wave and dash for it. I tap on the window, grinning widely.

In the driver's seat is my mum. Her name is Gwen. Gwen is about my height and we have the same dark hair. She is wearing her usual turquoise waitress outfit and torn pantyhose. A cigarette is in her mouth.

Yes. Surprised? My mother's a waitress in London who's flat broke and rents a one-room apartment. I sleep on the futon in the living room. It's comfy enough.

She waves back, and I throw my trunk in the back before climbing into the shotgun seat.

"Hey, kiddo," she says throwing her cigarette butt out the window, "Good to have you back."

"Missing the noise?" I retort but give her a hug.

We eventually make it to the apartment through the heavy traffic, after Gwen gives practically every other driver out there the f-bomb and a rude hand gesture. She parks the protesting car and we climb the fourteen floors up. No elevator. Yeah, you get over it.

"Hungry?" she asks as she lets us in.

I drum my fingers on the counter after setting down my trunk, "Starving." I haven't eaten on the train.

"I got two hours off to pick you up, I'll bring you back something, kay?"

"That's great, Gwen," I assure her.

Once you get past the chipped, peeling, cracked walls and the windows that refuse to close all the way and the disconnected phone service it really isn't that bad of a place. I kick my trunk in a corner and collapse on my futon, watching Gwen prepare to leave.

"Gwen?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Your pantyhose is torn in the back, don't you have another pair?"

"This is my last," she admits, "Tore all of the others too. Don't worry about it, I'll just buy some more as soon as I'm paid."

"Right, see you later."

"I'll be back with food," she promises as she walks out the door, closing it with a defined click.

I stare at the rotating fan for a while, but then get up to search the pantry and fridge just to make sure there was nothing to eat in the house. The pantry was 100 percent bare, and the fridge had only booze.

Yeah, Hogwarts is definitely more comfortable, but I love Gwen. I think of Summer and Bethany looking at boys and Naomi being annoyed at them. And then I think of Ella trying to chew her great-aunt's cake.

Before I know it, I'm asleep.

.x.X.x.

Cedric leans back in his chair, breathing deeply. His father looks at him sternly.

"How is that Triwizard Tournament coming?" is the first thing he asks his son upon his arriving.

"Why? I don't even know why I entered it anymore," Cedric mumbles in distaste, putting his hands behind his neck.

"Let's not have that sort of talk," Mr. Diggory interjects. He is a shorter, rounder man with ruddy cheeks and a too-happy expression on always. Cedric takes after his mother.

"Why not?" Cedric demands, sitting back up to face his father.

The sitting room they have this conversation in is roomy and fancy, which fine wallpaper and matching furniture. The wood on the floor is waxed and the windows are large and the glass clean. The lighting is perfect.

"Because you don't mean it, " Mr. Diggory says defiantly, "You've done great on both tasks for far, what's one more task?"

"I do mean it," Cedric snaps, "And Hogwarts would still be represented. No one would think any less of me if I—"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Mr. Diggory cuts him off harshly, "One thousand galleons! You're seventeen and almost done with school. That sort of money is a great start, son! Besides, you'll go far. You _can _win this, so why should you stop now?"

"And if I don't win?" Cedric puts in, matching his harsh tone.

"How could you not? You're competition is some idiot with more brawn than brains, a woman, and a fourteen-year-old child!" Mr. Diggory points out.

"Victor Krum isn't stupid or he wouldn't have been picked, Fleur Delecour is in no way inferior just because of her gender, and _Harry Potter!_ How can you honestly call him a mere child?" Cedric thunders back.

"You beat him in Quiditch!"

"Quiditch!" he stands up out of his chair, "This isn't bloody Quiditch, Dad!"

"Scared then, son?" his father taunts, "This tournament too big for you? You'd be twice the man you are now if you measured up to half of that fourteen-year-old boy!"

Cedric clenches his jaw and glared down at his father. He feels his hands curl into fists. He has always had a weakness for people calling him anything like a coward.

"Fine," he speaks through a clenched jaw, and sits back down.

"That's my boy," Mr. Diggory smiles, as though there were never any tension between them, "And remember, no distractions, either."

"Right, no distractions," but Cedric is hardly listening. He's staring out the window.

.x.X.x.

Gwen shakes me awake at eleven o'clock (which is when she gets off of her shift) and hands me a white restaurant-box full of still-hot spaghetti and mushroom ravioli, which I completely _devour_. The food is expensive—I can tell just by tasting it, and as soon as I swallow my first bite, I clear my throat.

"How'd you get this?" I question.

"That's from where I was serving," she told me, opening a beer and joining me on my futon, "The chef's a really nice guy, and I told him I had a hungry girl back at home. He said there was tons of extra stuff that hadn't been served and stuck it in a box for me."

"It's great," I chew some more.

I take a shower, only I can't get the water hot because the woman next door was likely washing her dishes and the plumbing is connected. So what if I'm freezing cold, at least I'm home, right?

Home, sweet, home.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Another short, uneventful chapter. Sorry. Next one is good, but the one after that will be JUICY, I promise! I just watched ****Pride and Prejudice ****for the first time. The one with Kiera Knightly?**

**Strange about Kiera Knightly, though… one time, I was randomly flipping through a **_**Seventeen **_**magazine for some reason (don't ask why) and I saw a photo of her at the beach and she was wearing the EXACT SAME swimsuit that I had! I was like, "Hell yeah," and wore it to the pool the next day.**

**Yeah, I just had to share that. She's a good actor and was really good in ****Pride and Prejudice.**** If you haven't seen it yet, YOU HAVE ****GOT ****TO!**


	12. Life is Never As You Expect It

The next day, I decide that I'm going to do something other than sit around, daydreaming about Cedric and writing more poems… e

**Title-**** Just Stacey**

**Author-**** 4give4get**

**Rated-**** T**

**Pairing-**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing. I do not own Harry Potter (the story) or Cedric Diggory (the character) and Stacey owns me.**

**Serena- Thanks for waiting, here is chapter twelve! I hope it meets all of your requirements for said chapter! **

_Life is Never as You Expect It…_

The next day, I decide that I'm going to do something other than sit around, daydreaming about Cedric and writing more poems… er, about Cedric. I will do something fun, something interesting. Something I've never done before! I don't really know anyone in London, so this will be a solo mission.

I'm going clubbing, I decide. Why not? I'll be able to get some kicks out of people weirder and even more messed up than myself, feel sneaky, and pass some bloody time. It's a win for everybody, except for the weird, messed up people. But then again, nothing is ever a win for them, poor folks…

I smirk to myself. Wait until I tell Summer and Bethany what I did in the city this Easter! Should I add in something of a smoking hot, mysterious Italian boy who _non parla Inglese?_

Perhaps not. That would likely be considered OVERKILL. They'll still be interested if I just say that I got shoved to the ground by two girls making out for free drinks and there was a puddle of pee on the floor. Which is sad, really. Where have the standards gone?

Oh well.

When you are bored, bored stiff as I am, even that sounds interesting. I dress in a pair of jeans and wear a dress over them with tennis shoes. It's cute and not slutty. I am so glad for something to finally do, I sing as I close the apartment door and slide down the sticky railing. For a while. Until I fall off and land on the stairs with the audience of some fat guy in a wife-beater, while both he and his dog snarl at me in the same manner.

I split from THAT scene pretty fast, as you can well imagine. Believe it or not, there ARE teen clubs in London.

"Yes," I lie, "I am sixteen."

And the guy at the door is to drunk to say otherwise, although as if fifteen is that much off. One stinking year…

No one is really that strange here. The room is not that big, but there is some kid wearing an awkward backwards baseball cap and trying to sag his pants like too many of the losers you see these days and bobbing his head up and down to the music.

Once, I saw a two dogs mating in the park Gwen used to take me to on her days off. The female dog was on the ground, and the male dog was on top of her doing the vertical hula. Sorry for the description… I know we all know what two dogs mating looks like. But as I look at the DJ and the way he is head bobbing and "dancing" in front of that stereo, I am instantly reminded of that day at the park.

When I am done contemplating that, I look around some more. The small room has brick walls, a bar where refreshments are offered, and very colorful lights blinking and flashing around. Along the edges, people stand and talk with one another, but in the middle… people are well… "dancing."

I am beginning to think that this whole club was there the day I saw those two dogs and was inspired by then enough to create similar dance moves. It was like one big orgy.

But most of the girls there are beautiful. Perfect tan skin, long perfectly wavy hair, and they all probably spent a half an hour putting on their make-up for it is that perfect looking. I am probably the ugliest thing here.

They all wear mini skirts or hip, body-hugging jeans, along with halter-tops, cleavage-tops, ULTRA-cleavage tops, and one girl who isn't even wearing a top but was in her bra.

Maybe I shouldn't have come here…

I turn to leave, the music is so loud you can't even really make out which song it is anyway, and make for the door. A heavy hand is rested on my shoulder.

Oh.

My.

God.

This is going to be like one of those scenes they tell you about in sex-ed, isn't it? Drunkenness, rape, dramatic aftermath… Great, now all of the kids from school are going to learn about MY case now. Well, it's not like my reputation can take much more hits anyway.

I turn around. It is a guy. He is about my age, give or take a few years, and like I amazingly predicted he is very drunk, likely having snuck the alcohol in. Hurray. But he is big too. If he were wearing a tux and playing the piccolo in front in a fancy concert and smelling roses, he would still look menacing, THAT'S how big he is.

But it is worse, since he's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, drunk, and trying to drag me over to the corner.

"Excuse me," I huff, "You've made a mistake, I am not who you think I am."

"I don't know you," he agrees, slurring, "But I would like to." His hands move farther up.

"Did you know," I inquire, "That I am really a bloke, myself. Just, um, broadening my horizons—do you like my dress?"

You never know, maybe he'll think I'm a drag-queen.

The Big Idiot does not appear to hear what I said, since he is still dragging me and saying all sorts of pervy things that I am not inclined to repeat, but do feel free to insert them yourself.

"Love to stay and chat," I try again, "But my mother just got cancer, my little sister ran away, my house is on fire, I've got herpes," I rack my brain for more, "And my cat got ran over by a Goodwill truck."

My wonderful lies and proof of wit is tragically wasted on this Idiot.

I have a very, good, loud scream, and I clear my throat, preparing to use it. I shove off of the Big Idiot and let it all out. Unfortunately, it's a lot wimpier than I anticipated and those who DO hear it, don't really care.

Great.

I kick him once. Hard. I have about two seconds of time and I don't waste it. Un-athletic Stacey is pretty determined at the moment and I run faster than I ever have in all fifteen years of my existence. I even seem graceful. I slip through throngs of people and before you could say "Yummy Scrumtoes" I am out the front door, catapulting myself into the street. Without realizing I'm doing it, of course.

A pair of headlights is coming right at me, and I stand myself back up, frozen. In the middle of the street. The driver slams on the brakes and you can hear the screeching of the rubber tires on the pavement. The car swerves and finally comes to a stop, inches from my body.

I let out the breath I was holding the whole time.

I am alive.

I am alive.

I am alive.

I will never be able to leave the security of my house again after this night. Now I know how people become paranoid and end up like afraid of the sun or something. I feel like I'll collapse from relief of it all. I don't even mind when the driver angrily flings the door open and stomps out of the car towards me.

I am alive.

The driver is Cedric Diggory.

My eyes pop out like a cartoon's would and I stagger backwards. But there he is, plain as day, in the flesh, the face I daydream about 24/7. He is stepping out of the car and coming over here. What's he doing here, anyway?

I realize in the nick of time, that I never actually asked him where he lived, so for all I know it COULD be London. Great. Why does Cedric have to see me running about the city like a lunatice and throwing myself in front of cars? I stomp my foot angrily, angry at the world for it's cruelty. It's utter cruelty.

THERE IS NO GOD.

If there were, I would be a gorgeous, tall girl looking cool and sexy doing something else, I don't know what, but not standing in the street like this, staring. Anything besides this. This looks good, doesn't it? (insert sarcasm.)

"Well you see," I say, "I am really Stacey's crazy, lunatic twin sister out to destroy her image. Well, I got to go and ruin someone else's night in the name of making life hard for her, bye!"

Cedric does not look amused. He does not look like he believes me, either. He takes a quick look around and then rolls his eyes.

"Get in the car, Stacey," he says curtly.

"Right."

I climb in the shotgun seat and he gets back in the driver's seat. As he drives off, I study his profile, his gaze on the road. He is a perfection, as always. As I take more notice of him, the effect of being in his presence is eminent. I love him…

He seems kind of edgy, like he was in some kind of argument earlier. I decide to ask about it.

"What happened? You're angry." I inform him.

"Is it that obvious?" he seems stressed now, and pushes back his light brown hair with one hand.

"Yes."

"I guess it's just been sort of a rough week so far," is all he is inclined to say.

"I'm sorry," I'm at a loss of anything else to say. I don't have the liberty to get picky and choosy with words like some people do. SIGH.

"Don't be. Where do you live?"

"Turn here. You never said you lived here in London," I say.

"Not directly in the city," he corrects me.

"Turn left," I instruct.

"What were you doing there?" Cedric asks, and I cringe. Confession time.

"Bored, I guess. I've learned my lesson and I'm not going back or anything, don't worry," I quickly say.

His gray eyes flick over to me but then back to the road. As I watch him continue driving down the street, I realize that he's a slower, careful driver. Unlike most boys his age who usually have zero qualms about stepping on the gas. His big hands grip the steering wheel.

"Next block," I choke out.

"Here?" he questions, his eyes bore straight into mine and I get the feeling that makes you want to run and throw yourself off the nearest cliff. Or just sink into ecstasy.

"Yeah," I open the car door and prepare to leave, but I am suddenly stopped short, "Do you want to come in?"

It was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Well, it was the courteous thing to do anyway since he did give me a ride home. He smirked and pulled the keys out of the ignition, "Definitely."

So together we walk up about three flights of stairs before Cedric asks about how many more there are supposed to be. I answer honestly—nine. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. And then grabs my hand.

He.

Grabs.

My.

HAND.

Imagine what that must have been for me. I feel like I am turned inside out and then back again and my stomach does back flips and my eyes grow like balloons the size of the whole of England and feel like they'd just make my head explode.

And then we aren't on the third-floor landing of the stair well anymore, but I feel like I am being forced though a tight, airless tube. Only for about a half a second, because with a _pop_ we are suddenly standing on the fourteenth floor.

I am breathing heavily, contemplating what had happened. I look over at Cedric who just smiles. What?

"Side-along apparation," he explains to me and then his smile dies away, "Sorry if I surprised you." He looks really guilty now. Like he did something wrong. I quickly shake my head.

"It's absolutely fine," I assure him, "Better than walking the whole way up."

He doesn't look very convinced but nods nonetheless. I smile (though it does little) and lead him down the hallway to our front door. I unlock it and push it open, "Welcome to my humble abode."

"And I do mean humble," I say quickly as he enters, I after him.

Cedric looks around. Cracked walls, smallness, whatever else is all there is to see. And suddenly, I can't believe it. After YEARS of crushing on him, Cedric is now standing in my living room. The juxtaposition of him and the background of this scene is odd all on its own.

"You want to sit?" I ask, and he sits next to me on the futon.

"Not what I expected," is all he says for the present.

"It never is," I remind him, "Life never is. My mum's a waitress. She was a witch—at one point anyway."

"_Was?_" Cedric questions, now utterly interested.

I turn around on the futon and push open the window behind it, sticking my head out into the breezy night sky. Cedric follows suit. It feels nice, just sort of propped up on my elbows on the window, watching the moving lights on the street and the still ones coming from the other buildings with Cedric. I see the lights of an airplane in the sky.

"Gwen _was _a witch," I repeat, "Her parents were from a wizarding family, you know. And she was a witch. She attended Hogwarts like any other witch too. But you know how they say that the magic chooses you?"

"Yes?"

"Well, when she finished in her seventh and last year… the magic sort of _unchose _her. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Cedric said slowly, I could tell he was thinking hard. He was thinking hard, deep, and slow thoughts.

"Well, she is, I guess, a squib now by loose terms and it's not like graduating Hogwarts does you much good in the muggle world. That's why she's a waitress," I continue.

"And your dad? If you don't mind telling me…" Cedric begins, but I cut him off with a slight wave of my hand.

"I don't mind. I didn't even know him. He was just one of Gwen's boyfriends along the way who left before she found out she was going to have me. He was just some muggle," I've known my own history my whole life, but someone it has more clarity when I confess it all to him. The words suddenly seem less complicated, or something.

I continue to gaze out into the night, but then realize that Cedric isn't looking out the window but looking at me. I turn to face him also.

"Why is your favorite color black?" his voice is barely over a whisper and I didn't realize it before, but we are leaning closer to each other.

I point to my eyes, "Gwen has green eyes, I have black ones—which leaves me the one thing I know about my dad."

He suddenly pulls back and looks at me sternly, "Stacey, you don't even know him and he was totally full of shit from what I've heard just now. You owe him nothing."

The thing is—he is right. I've known that for a while now, but I really couldn't help myself. I just wanted to be able to say, "Hey, Dad…" But I couldn't, unlike most kids. I did a good job at pretending that didn't bother me.

"You're right," I whisper.

"Pick a new favorite color," Cedric instructed me, "One that has nothing whatsoever to do with eyes."

"How about purple?" I suggest.

"Why purple?"

"I don't know—it's a nice color."

"Better," Cedric agrees and we both turn to looking out the window again.

"And you?" I ask.

"What about me?"

"What's your family like?"

"Oh—normal, I guess. What you'd expect," he answers.

I feel suddenly so sleepy now I can hardly finish a thought. I yawn, feeling the breeze blowing back my bangs, "Cedric—life is never what you expect."

"Stacey…" I hear him whisper in my ear, so softly it tickled.

I heard him get up and open the front door, closing it behind him. I fall down on the futon and in the seconds before I fall asleep—

Life is never what you expect.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Sorry it took a while to update. I was visiting California. If anyone here lives in the San Francisco area, I am so jealous of you. It's amazing!**

**But I'm back here in the Midwest and hating it.**

**But I DO also have access to my computer now so I can continue writing and updating, HURRAY! Please review!**


	13. The Legacy of Ngoz Foulhand

Title - Just Stacey

**Title -**** Just Stacey**

**Author ****- 4give4get**

**Rated -**** T**

**Pairing –**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I've tried many anagrams of my name, but none of them are "J.K. Rowling."**

**Serena- Sweet, thanks for the reviews!**

**Darling Daring Duckie- ****I appreciate you reviewing a WHOLE bunch! :) And you're right, I'm rather annoyed when people ALWAYS make their character the most beautiful thing, and blah, blah, blah. I've thrown many a book because of that. Stacey is definitely average (at best) but I find that's what makes this story.**

**Green Animelover-**** Thanks again for a good review!**

**lyssy31-**** I can see how you would think that, now that you point it out. Maybe some unconscious influence there… anyway, thanks for reviewing!**

**Okay, so I was just searching through other Cedric stories on this website, and dividing the number of reviews over the number of chapters just to see how well this story ranked. I was pretty happy. I was mostly beaten by HarryxCedric stories. Well, I had that coming. Nothing measures up to slash stories because they're so amazing.**

**But feel free to read HarryxCedric, I love them too!**

_The Legacy of Ngoz Foulhand…_

Dishes.

I am doing lots of dishes. It is strangely chilly in Gwen's apartment but the water in the sink is boiling hot, scorching my fingers, but everything else is rigid and cold and my body doesn't know what to feel.

I feel miserable.

But as I space out again, I realize that Cedric is right; purple is much prettier than black, anyway.

.x.X.x.

Two days later, I'm back at Hogwarts (thanks god) and staying up WAY too late with Naomi, Summer, Bethany, and Ella. God, I missed them so much!

"You know," I say, "I'm getting a job next summer. What sort of job should I get?"

"A job?" Summer repeats, "Aren't you too young?"

"No," I inform her, "I'll be sixteen in November."

"You should get a job at the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley," Bethany puts forth, "The uniforms are the cutest thing ever!"

"Maybe," I rub my chin.

.x.X.x.

So as I balance the ideas with a job this summer, Cedric, Cho, Cedric, my new favorite color, and Cedric, school seems unimportant. I just clamp my mouth shut and hope that if I don't stand out, no teachers will call on me. I take good notes (my mind not really into it) and half-study it after I skim over my homework scribbling things I'm not even paying attention to.

"Stacey," Professor Binns asks, causing me to blink and look up, my heart sinking, "Why, pray tell, did Rkez Darkshade start the fifth goblin war against Rdogus XVII?"

"Well," I clear my throat and set down my quill. EVERONE is staring at me, "He started the fifth goblin war because… because—"

"Do take your time," Professor Binns remarks sarcastically.

Let's be honest, I have no idea.

"Because," I bounce back, "He wanted to. He thought it was pretty cool—"

"Ten points from Ravenclaw," he interrupts me, "Perhaps Miss Granger can answer this."

A girl named Hermione Granger puts down her hand and speaks clearly, "Rkez Darkshade started the fifth goblic war against Rdogus XVII because he did think that he had the right to rein as king. They did not agree on politics. Darkshade believed that the Ellyllons in Wales ought to be killed and stripped of their land, but Rdogus refused to do so."

"Wonderful answer!" Professor Binns exclaims, but Hermione is still not yet done.

"And to quote Ngoz Foulhand, a goblin philosopher from that era…"

I let myself sink back into my seat. Who cares about the fifth goblin war, Rkez Darkshade, Rdogus XVII and Ngoz Foulhand, anyway? I don't even know who the last goblin was, so how does Hermione know? Well, she probably read a history book for enjoyment, so never mind. I guess I don't really have anything against her. She seems like a perfectly nice girl, even if it is strange that she never really made friends with any of the girls in our year.

Much less me.

I don't pick up my quill again to continue taking notes, but open up the book_ Sense and Sensibility_ by Jane Austen and get lost in the late 1700s muggle world. Back when you were likely tainted if you never married. The two heroines were sisters. Elinor was Sense. And Marianne was Sensibility. They had been forced to face poverty for the first time in their lives. They try to make successful marriages, but usually prettier, richer girls or horrible old women get in the way. So their situation starts off bad from the first page and promptly continues to get worse.

I can't really relate my life to Elinor or Marriane Dashwood's any more than I can to Catherine Morland's, Austen's heroine to _Northanger Abby._ I am not trying to drag myself out of poverty by marriage, nor do I have a sister. Although it is true I have no father like the Dashwood sisters, although theirs died, unlike mine.

The cover of _Sense and Sensibility _shows two girls of roughly nineteen and seventeen. One is beautiful. One is plain. The beautiful one has rosy cheeks and a perfect nose and chin. She looks about to say something passionate and it is obvious that she is Marianne. The second sister is more common-looking, but she holds a book in her hand and is definitely the smarter of the two. She is obviously Elinor.

"Stacey," Professor Binns says again, causing me to close the book quickly with a snap, "Can you tell us how Ngoz Foulhand's quote can relate to the fifth goblin war as Miss Granger splendidly pointed out?"

"Errrr, right," I gulp, "Who is Foulhand again?"

Professor Binns makes a great speech at my expense and ends it with, "Ten more points from Ravenclaw."

I'll be popular now.

I look down at Elinor and Marianne Dashwood again on the cover of _Sense and Sensibility._ Neither of them had to memorize things about goblin wars.

.x.X.x.

After classes are all over for the day, I decide to go and sulk by the lake. Stupid Professor Binns. Stupid Hermione Granger. Stupid goblin wars. Stupid Ngoz Foulhand.

I plop down on the shore, but some prickly grass sticks through my skirt and stabs my upper thighs. Imagine how much that hurts for a second.

I yelp and jump back up, about to find a better place to have a pity party with myself. Someone approaches. It's Cedric Diggory. Yeah, I suppose he must know where to find me after classes and days off by now. His gray eyes are filled with an emotion I've never seen him wear and I can't put my finger on just what emotion that is, either.

He forwardly grabs my wrist and leads me off, "Come on, Stacey."

"Where are we going?" I gasp. I'll have to find a time to sulk later. And write two essays by the end of the week.

"You'll see," is all he says, so I am left to wallow in suspense. His strides are long and quick, dragging me along. But he is in a surprisingly good mood.

We go to the Quiditch field, which is utterly empty now because there is neither game nor practice. I am more confused then ever. What's going on? Cedric turns to face me for the first time.

"You say you've never ridden a broom before?" he asks.

Wha?

"Never," I answer.

"That's going to change," he gestures to his broom he has out and it all suddenly clicks together.

Cedric wants me to ride a broom. I swallow. How am I going to break this to him? Honestly, there is no way I would come within five feet of that thing. That has "disaster" written all over it, if you ask me. Flying is unnatural. For people like me. I like both feet safely planted on the ground if I can help it.

"I couldn't possibly…" I shake my head, trying to step back from it all.

"It's fun," Cedric promises, "It's the most amazing feeling, you've got to trust me, Stacey. Don't you trust me?"

He looks straight at me and I go wide-eyed. He is a perfection. And when I first began crushing on him in my second year, I was obsessed with him because of his good-looks and Quiditch-playing-perfect-popular guy rep. EVERYBODY loves Cedric. But now, now that I actually know him… it's like a completely different thing.

He's serious in everything he does or says. He has that way of looking angry and frustrated that just makes him more adorable. But he's also kind. He's the one that told Cho to stay away from me, and when he found out I crushed on him enough to doodle his name on my notes he didn't laugh. When I first read Jane Austen, I actually believed that there was such thing as the perfect man, like there always is in her stories.

No, Cedric isn't perfect. But the way that I feel when I'm with him is. That's all that matters, right?

And as I think this, I am looking into his eyes and seeing straight into the soul of the sweetest boy I know.

"Alright."

He grins at me and we both get on the broom, "Just wrap your arms around my waist," he instructs and I do so. I put my cheek against his back.

"Are you ready?"

"No, but go anyway," I reply, beginning to feel sick. I bite my lip.

Cedric kicks off and soon my feet leave the grass of the field. We go straight up about seven feet and then suddenly forward. Fast. The wind blows in my hair, and as long as I don't look down, I'm golden. I just pull my face back from Cedric's back and close my eyes.

He knows what I'm doing without even looking back, "Stacey, don't close your eyes. You can get sick that way."

Upon hearing this my eyes shoot back open. I don't need to puke all over him, lovely as that would be. Insert sarcasm. He tilts the broom hand up and we go up. And up. We're so high that I can count each courtyard from within the castle. I can see the Forbidden Forest as it stretches on for miles. I can see the lake and it looks like a mere puddle from way up here. I clutch Cedric tighter. What if I were to fall off?

I would be a pancake. They would scrape my splattered remains off of the ground and no one would ever think of poor Stacey who fell off of a broom to her death.

"Take a deep breath," Cedric calls back.

"Why?" I want to know.

"You're going to need it," he advises and I simply obey…

…And I'm glad for it. If I thought we were going fast before, I was comparing a child's tricycle to a badass sports car. We go straight down and then zip in and out of the pews and towers of the castle.

I hold onto him with every ounce of strength I have, "We're going to crash!" I yell.

I heard him laugh, "You said you trusted me, Stacey!"

Burying my head into his back I try to calm myself. This is not happening. I am really lying in the grass (the soft, not-prickly kind) and staring at the clouds. Too bad it doesn't work. I'm shaking with fear, but I don't scream. That would be a little over the top, if you know what I mean.

The wind is fierce and if there ever was some sort of style in my hair like a ponytail or something, it sure is gone now. My stomach lurches horribly when we drop and I cringe and make faces into Cedric's back. He's probably thinking what the freak I am, holding on to him like so.

Finally (not soon enough) we touch back down again, and I have to physically restrain myself from actually kissing the ground. If… If it would just—stay STILL. I'm feeling dizzier than ever and everything is moving. I see three… no four Cedrics. As I clamber off of the broom my legs wobble and then finally give out and I fall on my rear rather hardly.

But I'm laughing too. I feel Cedric reach out and grab both of my hands, pulling me to my feet. The dizziness is mostly gone now. He looks a little worried. I follow his gaze and see that he is looking at my scraped up legs, which are oozing a little blood.

He drops down to examine the scrapes closer, "God, I'm so sorry, Stacey. I didn't realize—"

I cut him off with laughter, "That was there before, silly!" Yeah, SOMETHING is usually bleeding so I get used to it.

Cedric stands back up and regards me with seriousness, "Well?"

"That was the most fun I've had in ages!" I exclaim, "Scary, and I wanted to kill you every second I was up there, but you were right—it is amazing."

He smiles a rare smile, "Thanks. You know, I've never met anyone like you before."

Yes, the smile is gone in a flash and he gives me such a serious look, I smile from how cutely-serious he looks.

And now I suddenly feel like I'm in a romance novel. Which is a good feeling, don't get me wrong. But as soon as he says that, and with the combination of how dead serious his gray eyes and beautiful features look, it all causes me to blush scarlet red.

Well, Cedric isn't the type to feel cocky because he can make a girl blush, so I don't worry about it too much.

"I've had in infatuation with you since I was thirteen years old," I say back.

He assumes that expression where he looks so sad that I want to kill myself for being the one to bring it on, "I'm sorry. I didn't even know you then."

I smile to try to cheer him, "Of course you didn't. I was just some dweeby second year _kid._ You were fifteen. Who is fifteen and notices someone who's that much younger than them?"

He reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, "I notice you know, Stacey," he promises me, "I most definitely notice you now."

Back to the romance novel feeling. I am full of every possible feeling in the world. In fact, I'm feeling so emotional, it's the most I've felt in my whole life. I am suddenly so sensitive to everything and anything, and I really am just _feeling_. Every emotion you can think of, I am feeling it right now.

"I've got a essay about Ngoz Foulhand to finish," I breath, just to say something.

"Who's Ngoz Foulhand?" Cedric asks, but it sounds more like he is asking just to say something, not from actual curiosity.

"I was hoping you would know," my breathing is becoming rugged.

And then Cedric Diggory leans forward and kisses me.

I'm sorry, I am trying to say it casually, like someone might mention the weather in an attempt to make it less of a big deal. It doesn't really work much. I'm definitely a different Stacey from before I knew Cedric. Perhaps less shy. But I'm still Stacey, after all.

So it is most definitely a big deal, as much as I might claim it to not be so.

Ah, the kiss. Well, let me put it like this. This kiss is better than anything Jane Austen ever wrote of. I was in love with Mr. Darcy after _Pride and Prejudice_. Well, who isn't? I had dreams about Henry Tilney while I read _Northanger Abby_, and I became quite obsessed with Edmund Bertram all during _Mansfield Park_, but even all together they don't measure up.

His lips are warm. His hand is on my shoulder. I feel like my feet are plastered to the ground and the world has frozen and stopped spinning on its axis just for us. My heart beats unevenly and I feel like I'm on drugs. Seriously. A _lot _of drugs.

We pull away.

"That's funny," I muse, "I never thought of goblin wars as romantic before."

Cedric walks be back to the Ravenclaw common room. We aren't holding hands, but our fingers brush was we walk—and it's enough. His features are a serious and forward as always, but perhaps he's feeling differently on the inside. I know I'm concealing a secret smile myself.

Yes, we are both madly grinning on the inside as normal looking as we look on the outside. I answer the question at the door, and Cedric squeezes my hand one last time before I go in.

I instantly begin working on the essay about the fifth goblin war we're supposed to complete, but my mind is not into it. Wait until Binns sees this… I'll be the death of this house as to winning for the most points in the end of the school year. But the really odd thing is…

I don't care.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- I've noticed something. I'll write two or three chapters in one sitting, and then I'll not write for another week. Strange. And I'm sorry for that inconvenience. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	14. And Then, And Then, And Then

Title - Just Stacey

**Title -**** Just Stacey**

**Author -**** 4give4get**

**Rated -**** T**

**Pairing –**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- Joanne Rowling is truly an inspiration for all young, (usually female) writers with a dream to become a novelist. I… heh, heh, not so much.**

**Serena- You all are truly a joy.**

_And Then, And Then, And Then…_

…And the Ellyllons are important to Wales because of the deep roots of elven culture and civilization. Darkshade's ambitions to overthrow Rdogus XVII…

This textbook is boring as hell. I wish I could just open the window of our dorm and toss it out into the courtyard below, but that is not possible since I still need to use this book for a few more weeks before school ends.

I hate goblins. Why do they have to start wars and be stupid and make history, which us poor suckers have to study? Why couldn't they just sit around all day and have bloody tea parties, instead? Are goblin children forced to learn about wizards? I think not!

I hate the Ellyllons too.

I hate history.

I hate Professor Binns. Screw the little bastard and his threatening me! Indeed, four days ago he approached me after class and said that unless I get a perfect score on these exams he'll be forced to give me a _D _which is technically a failing grade.

So I am currently studying my rear end off trying to shove it all down my throat before next week, otherwise known as the week where we all have exams. Including Magical History exams.

"If you find this hard, wait until OWLS, young lady," Professor Binns sniffed as he dismissed me.

"That miserable cur," I mutter.

Who keeps teaching after they die anyway? I wish he had decided to move on when he died so that all of the people in wherever dead people go would have to listen to him lecture on the significance of a Welsh elven culture instead of us.

He could be in league with the devil. Imagine it:

"Sure, Mr. Devil," I imagine Professor Binns saying to a red man with horns, "You can set fires and stab people with your fork-like staff, while I enlighten everyone with stupid, pointless goblin wars! What a torture duo we make, buddy!"

And then Professor Moody can mortify them beyond their mortal comprehension. Make that a torture trio.

I will burn this book as soon as school is out, I decide. I will burn it and enjoy doing so. I flip through the notebook where I record my homework and instantly wish that I hadn't. A potions essay.

Bloody Snape. That stupid slimeball. Did his mother drop him on his head when he was a baby? Twelve inches long? My eyes go wide as I read the notebook further. God-damn Snape! That stupid, used-tampon Snape!

If I had to spend time in a prison cell, and I had a choice of cell mates between Severus bloody Snape, and a pack of wild, rabid, man-eating dogs (I am terrified of dogs remember.) I would choose the dogs.

I throw down my notebook and find a piece of parchment and quill in order to begin this essay. I'm going to seriously kill that man someday.

.x.X.x.

Cedric looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He sees himself as he always looked. Nothing out of the ordinary. His forehead is creased with worry. The third task. Just thinking of it makes him feel scared out of his mind.

No, this isn't Quiditch.

Well, hadn't he defeated a dragon? And after that swam down to the bottom on the lake and back pulling the excess weight of Cho? One more task to go. He _had _put his name in after all. No going back.

"I will finish this," he says aloud, just in hopes of helping him believe it himself.

"I will finish this."

The thoughts he has been working so hard to keep out of his head come flooding in. What if this one last task is the one that does it? The one that's too much? What if he doesn't survive this one?

He breathes, hoping to shift some of the weight off of his chest. It doesn't work. He then thinks of what people would think. He can see his parent's overjoyed faces. Cedric can see Stacey's black eyes looking up at him, so proud of him…

_I'll do it._

And he would—he swiftly walks out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Firmly.

.x.X.x.

"STACEY!" the dorm door is flung wide open and Summer and Bethany sprint in, 100 percent out of breath.

I am propped in the window seat where I have my school back across from me as company. My hand aches from holding this quill for so long. I'm only at seven inches of this essay too.

"What?" I moan, letting the general public (Summer and Bethany) know of my discomfort at the present time.

"What do you mean, 'What?'" Bethany shrieks, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, "The Third Task is starting NOW. And where are you? You're doing fucking homework in the dorm!"

"Excuse me," I sniff, putting down my quill and stretching out the joints in my hand. Each and every knuckle cracks, "But I have a few tests to cram for—"

"Stace," Summer puts in, "No one is doing that essay, you know."

"I can't fail Potions!" I wail, picking the quill back up again and continuing to write, "Do you know how much my grades are slipping as of the past few months?"

"Everyone gets a few _D_'s, Stace," Bethany sighs, "It would be normal-person-ish if you got a _D _or two."

"I have no idea what sort of future career I'm aiming at," I inform her, "But I would prefer to keep my choices open."

She opens her mouth to speak, but I speak first, "Meaning no _D_'s."

"Fine," Summer shakes her head, "Be a poop."

"I will," I smile, "Have fun though!"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll take pictures for you!"

"Great, I'll frame them!" I call as they close the door behind them as they leave.

I turn the quill over in my hand and finish the sentence I had started.

Bloody Snape.

.x.X.x.

"You know," Naomi begins, utterly annoyed, "This is exactly like the last task."

"Yeah," Summer agrees.

"Great! We can just stare at some maze for a half an hour until a winner is announced. We cannot even see any of the action! Only the First Task was any good!" she continues.

"Yeah, and that freaked Stacey out."

"Poor Stace…"

"This blows," Naomi spits on the ground and a Beauxbatons girl glares at her and turns away with a sniff, "Let's get out of here."

"I want to be here when it ends," Bethany whines.

"We can be—let's just skip this."

The four of them sit under the bleachers and pass the time by writing and drawing all over the insides of the bleachers with a sharpie marker. Naomi hopes Snape never happens to come down here and read what they wrote about him.

.x.X.x.

As Cedric touches the Goblet of Fire, he is suddenly whizzing off into who knows where. A port key. When they land, they fall on hard, cold ground. Cedric quickly picks himself back up and glances at Harry.

"Amazing," he whispers, "This must be the next step in this task."

"No," Harry says loudly, "No, this isn't right…"

Cedric bites the inside of his mouth—he is confident.

.x.X.x.

Suddenly, music starts up. Naomi suddenly perks up from coloring in a drawing of Snape as a ball of sludge. All four girls look at each other—acknowledging that it must be over and scramble to their feet and run.

She sees the cheering crowd, and the two figures lying in the field, with the Goblet of fire. What?

"Why are they just lying on each other?" Ella asks quietly.

"Errr… they're having a moment," Summer suggests.

Naomi frowns—it really doesn't look right. She turns to look over her shoulder and sees Stacey making her way through the crowd. She is wearing the same thing she was in the dorm—a pair of pajama pants, a tank top and bare feet. Something funny is in her eye. Naomi doesn't blame her.

.x.X.x.

I push through the crowd—a bold statement for me. I shove a sixth year boy, a Beauxbatons girl, a short, pallid middle aged woman, and a small Hufflepuff girl—pretty much everyone in my path.

Why? I don't know why. It's one of those unexplainable things that you do and they don't really make sense, but you know somehow that you should be doing them. If that makes sense.

Every now and then in life you do things that don't really make sense. But they're the right things to do. You just know it.

And right now, the right thing to do was push my way to the field. When I eventually do get to my destination, I see just Harry and Cedric lying on the ground. Harry is screaming with teachers all over him and Cedric… what's wrong with Cedric?

I continue walking out into the field. My whole body is growing more numb with each step. I feel more like a ghost than a girl. And other people seem to notice it to. No one tries to stop me from approaching them.

I see people shaking their heads in disbelief, their eyes wide in horror. Cedric's dead, isn't he?

"Only one can win," I whisper to myself, and then I begin laughing. Loudly. My laughs are so high pitched and shrill that it sounds unnatural. I don't even know what's wrong with me. Perhaps I've simply gone insane.

"Isn't it damn funny?" I laugh.

Professor McGonagall looks at me with a worried expression and briskly lifts her emerald robes and walks up to me, slapping me over the face before I can blink. It stings, but I'm instantly sobered.

"Thank you," I murmur to her, as it was definitely called for.

And then I look down.

And I don't know how to describe what it's like when you look down into the wide eyes of the boy you love and discover that they really are lifeless.

And then I feel my hands begin to sweat. And then my head is full of air. And then my lips part. And then I think I'm falling. And then, and then, and then—ohh.

_End Chapter_

**Serena- Please review.**


	15. Who I Would Have Been

Title - Just Stacey

**Title -**** Just Stacey**

**Author -**** 4give4get**

**Rated -**** T**

**Pairing –**** CedricxOC**

**Disclaimer- I own nothing.**

**Serena- You all have no idea how miserable I've been since I've killed Cedric. I feel like someone I know actually died. Cedric and all of the characters I use are that real to me. Thanks for reading so far. Last chapter. Maybe a sequel.**

_Who I Would Have Been…_

Dear Cedric,

As I write this letter, gray clouds cover the sky horizon to horizon and drop the rain miles from the sky down here to Earth where it lands on the roof and turrets of the castle that is our school and it washes down the upper windowsill and then slides across the glass of the window panes smoothly and in perfect grace, before the droplets then drip off the lower windowsill and finally fall to the forest floor below.

You are dead. But I'm not tell really telling you that; I'm telling myself that. Or trying to, anyhow.

People know how I felt about you. They always did and I'm only realizing it now. They're all walking on eggshells whenever they come within the same vicinity as me.

"Don't mention Cedric around Stacey."

In a way, I've been walking on eggshells to myself as well. I try not to think of you. Whenever my general thoughts begin in that direction, I quickly stoop myself.

I couldn't think about you because it was far too painful. The truth hurt—as it often does, I suppose. But remembering your life with pain is better than pretending it never happened. You deserve better than that, Cedric.

So I will get out all of the pain here so maybe later I'll be able to think of you and it'll be with happiness that you once lives as you deserve. You are dead. As I write you are as cold as a rock in the shade. Your skin is rotting. Soon you will only be bones in your grave.. And then not even that—you'll be dust and all of the world will still move on.

We all die.

Is my heart really broken, anyhow? I feel sad—but so does everyone. If someone had asked me, "Do you love Cedric Diggory?" I would have answered without a question, "Yes."

But I think I've learned something. That which is unquestionable is often times vulnerable. And I'll be honest, more to myself than anyone else: I do not love you, Cedric. I do not now, and I certainly never did.

**I NEVER LOVED YOU.**

Good grief, I'm fifteen years old! I don't even know what love is! As it would be lying to say I loved you, it would also be lying to say that I didn't care for you at all. I really liked you a lot. Maybe in time I wouldn't come to love you. But that is nothing now.

I was 100 percent smitten with you, however. Maybe it's good you're out of my life, because you were really an unhealthy obsession. Maybe I was oppressed. And now that the person that was on my mind 90 percent of the time is gone, I feel like I'm starting my life all over again.

I'm a new person now, and I'd really lie to meet myself.

But somehow, I can't chase away the pain bursting in my chest. Perhaps your death is still too recent. Perhaps time heals all. Either way, my mind seems to be stuck on useless thoughts: I'm thinking of who I would have been as much as I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter. The past is the past and wishing and thinking about it won't change it.

As soon as the rain clears I will throw this letter out into the wind and let it be lost. I don't want to see it ever again. If I just buried it one the bottom of my trunk with all of the miss-matched socks, pencils and gum wrappers, I would just dig it up again and all the pain I'm putting into this note would all come flooding back. But somehow I could never throw it away, though. I'll just get rid of it sort of like the note in a bottle out to sea cliché, of course minus the bottle and the sea and I'm not a man stuck on an island forced to eat tree slime until I'm rescued.

I should thank you. Your passing through my life however brief it was taught me about myself. And I will live on. You'd better believe I will!

Most importantly of all, I feel now lie the world is so big (bigger than I ever imagined) and I am only one girl. I am smaller than life, I realize and as I sit by this window, watching the rain, and thinking of who I would have been.

Warm Regards,

Stacey (Just Stacey—the smallest person in the world.)

_End Chapter_

_End Story_

**Serena- It's over. Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all helped me so much through this and it deffinetly improved from beginning to end thanks to my reviewers! I owe you everything!**

**And about the sequel. No Cedric obviously, but it's going to be about year 5 for Stacey and her friends. It'll be… Stacey-ish. I'll get it up as soon as I can.**

**Thank you again!**


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